Ode to Hemingway and Plath
by klutz5637
Summary: Sometime after his mothers wedding, Jess circles around some dark thoughts and can't seem to get away. This is Jess hitting rock bottom. And how his Uncle helps him through it.
1. The Bell Jar

"Hello?" He barely spoke above a whisper; Jess could feel his eyes glaze over as he continued to stare at the bottles he had laid out in front of him. He could hear the thumping of his blood in his ears – so loud that he could barely make out the person on the other end of the line.

"Hey Jess, it's Luke."

Jess froze. His mind blank. He could barely get his mouth to move. Swallowing away the dryness in his throat he squeaked out a measly greeting.

"Your mum said that you haven't called in a few weeks," Luke started. Jess could hear the sound of the diner behind him, Caesar calling out an order ready, the sounds of cutlery hitting plates. "I'm just make sure this is still your number."

Jess nodded, his eyes still focused on that bottles. He started reading the labels, trying to do the math and figure out how many just to be sure – "Still me." He said vaguely.

"Okay."

Jess could almost hear Luke nodding on the other end. Looking for some way to end the conversation.

"You're okay though, right?"

Jess swallowed again. "Yep." He said, "Fine."

"Okay." He paused again, "Ring your mother more."

"Yep."

"Bye."

Jess hung up without returning the farewell.

He stared at the bottled, putting the phone down on the basin next to them. It wouldn't take much. He had the Jack Daniels in a bottle, a glass, and a thousand different pills. It wouldn't take much at all.

He started reaching for the bottles, ready to pour out the first load, so it came as a surprise to him when his body seemed to wake up a little and reach for the phone instead. He pressed redial and didn't have to wait long for the same man to answer.

Luke greeted, sounding short and annoyed.

Jess cut to the chase – "I'm not okay."

"Jess?"

"I'm not fine. I'm not doing okay." He said again.

"What do you mean?"

Jess paused, taking a milli-step away from the basin, away from the bottles. "My roommate died the other day."

"He died?" He said incredulously, "I'm sorry," Luke said after a moment, "Were you close?"

"Not at all." Jess answered honestly, "Didn't really know him – barely saw him."

Jess could tell Luke was confused. He waited for Jess to continue before uttering a small, "Okay?"

Jess took a deep breath. Feeling the way his heart pounded in his chest, feeling the adrenaline that he had been ignoring moment before. "I'm scared."

"You're scared? Jess – what happened? What's going on?"

Jess heard Luke move away from the hustle of the diner. He'd probably turned so that he was facing the wall, the ear of the phone closer to the quiet. Or maybe he'd gone into the store room for some privacy. Regardless, Jess breathed out suddenly and shakily, feeling faint as he looked at the bottles again, his hands were shaking, and he could barely hold onto the phone – _what was he about to do?_

"I'm scared because when I found out he had died – I was jealous."

"Jealous? I don't understand –"

"I'm scared because before you rang." Jess stopped, he was surprised by the wetness he felt on his cheeks and how badly he felt like choking on the sobs he could feel coming up. "Before you rang," he started again, "I was in the bathroom, with a bottle of whisky, and a thousand bottles of pills."

Luke was quiet on the other end of the line. Someone was attempting to talk to him, but Jess heard his uncle shout for the whole diner to "Shut Up!" before he returned to the phone, his breath coming out as shaky as Jess'. "Are you saying what I think you're saying Jess?"

Jess didn't respond. Instead, in a moment of vulnerability he let out the sob that he'd been so desperate to keep in. He heard his uncle calling for him, but instead he fell back onto the lid of the closed toilet seat and gripped onto the wall next to him, trying to get his head to stop spinning. He interrupted whatever panic his uncle was getting himself into. "I was going to Luke." He implored, "I was just making sure I had enough when you rang. I was seconds from pouring out a glass to make it easier to swallow." His voice was barely understandable to even himself, he was sure that Luke had no idea what he was saying.

He could hear his uncle talking to someone on the other side of the line. Jess slowly moved to the floor of the bathroom, bringing his knees up and letting his head fall between them to stop the room from spinning. "I'm scared." He said again, "Luke, I'm scared. I don't know what's going on with me."

"Hey," Luke said softly, though the shake in his voice proved to Jess that he at least grasped what his nephew was about to do. "Hey Jess, don't be scared okay. Don't be scared. Where are you now?"

"I'm still in the bathroom."

"Get out of there. Get away from the pills Jess."

"I can't at the moment," he admitted, his voice quiet and muffled, "I don't think I can move. I might be sick."

This seemed to panic Luke more, "You didn't already take any, did you? Be sick Jess. If you did - _be sick."_

Jess shook his head before answered verbally, "No." He reassured, "No, I didn't. I didn't." he promised, "It's hitting me what was just about to happen."

There was ruffling on the other side, sounds of people moving and a commotion happening. "Sorry, I should let you get back to work." He said as if it were the end to a normal conversation – a pleasantry that was offered in a normal situation – he was barely thinking.

"Don't be an idiot." The man growled, "I'm not letting you get off of this phone – you hear me."

Jess nodded again, not bothering to vocalise.

"Where are you, Jess?"

"Still in the bathroom."

"No." Luke said quickly, " _Where_ are you?"

"New York."

"Still in that shitty place?"

Jess scoffed, feeling less dizzy in that moment and surprising himself at how quickly he'd bounced from that sobbing mess to his old guarded self, "Like I could afford anywhere else."

"I'm coming to get you."

Jess' head shot up from his knees, "What?!" and the room span again, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall, "Luke! It's the middle of the lunch rush," he complained, "You've got a diner to run. You can't just drop that and come and get me because I'm being a bit of a girl right now and –"

"Jess. This is more than a moment of vulnerability – I'm right about that, aren't I?"

Jess didn't answer.

"Do you honestly think the diner means more to me that _you_ do?"

Jess didn't answer.

"Jeez kid." Luke muttered, obviously realising that yes. Yes, in fact, Jess did think that. "I need to hang up so I can get moving – but I'm going to ring back instantly from a cell so I want you to pick up as soon as it does, okay?"

"I'm not going to do it, Luke. You don't need to talk me off the edge," Jess said, eyeing the pill bottles that were lined up against the basin, "I can just wait until you get here."

"Please kid, for my own sanity."

Jess nodded, but Luke seemed to realise his answer.

The line went to the dial tone and almost in the same moment the ringing of his phone echoes through his ear – he answered.

"Since when do you have a cell phone?"

"I don't." Luke said, the wind picking up on his side of the line telling Jess that he was outside and probably storming towards his car, "But Lorelai does."

Jess hit his head back against the wall with more force than was strictly necessary and groaned – loudly.

"Stop complaining – who do you think is driving me to you?"

"I didn't realise my Sylvia Plath moment was going to involve the whole cast of _Jess Mariano: The Early Years."_

Luke didn't respond to Jess' attempt at making light of the situation. He was still on the bathroom floor. The pounding in his head had ceased and he was started to feel cold against the tiles – his body racking in shivers and constant shakes.

"How long has this been going on, Jess?"

Jess shook his head. His teeth were starting to chatter against each other and he couldn't seem to warm himself up. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Why didn't you say anything at Liz's wedding?"

"I didn't think I would go through with it." He said without thinking. Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth Jess regretted them, slamming his lips shut. It was like he was coming up for air finally after months of drowning – he was seeing just how much he'd been simply existing – not living.

"Didn't think you'd go through with it?" he repeated. Jess heard Luke shush Lorelai on his side of the line, "What does that mean?

"I was, uh." He felt awkward. Not only that – he felt ashamed. "I was thinking of what everyone's life would be like if I wasn't in the picture." He admitted, "I was just thinking about how I'd like to go." Jess looked up and saw the bottles once again and he felt his body lurch in repulsion, he bent over, groaning and fell against the toilet, lifting the lid in time for him to empty the acidic lack of contents from his stomach. He could hear his uncle shouting through the speaker and simply groaned in response, fumbling with the buttons so that he could put it on speaker and keep his head over the toilet – ready to be sick again.

"I'm okay." He whispered, "I'm alright." He said again. He wasn't sure who he was reassuring, but his body took another lurch, his whole being seeming to shake, and he was sick again. Gasping, and choking on the taste, the smell, Jess struggled to breathe in and answer his Uncle who was shouting through the phone, his pleas constant and piercing through the empty bathroom. "Luke." He choked out, "stop." He leaned up, his arm feeling weak – it was shaking so much that he struggled to reach and grip hold of the flush and attempt to get rid of the burning smell. "I was sick – I'm fine."

"We won't be long." Luke said eventually. "Lorelai is breaking probably every driving law trying to get there."

"I'm not sure I'm going to be able to move, Luke." Jess whispered, his words choking in his throat as the acidic bile threatened to spill out again, "I'm not sure I'm going to be able to let you in."

"Don't worry about that, okay –"

Jess cut him off by once again retching over the toilet. He was struggling to keep a grip on the lid, every part of him was shaking. He couldn't stop himself from twitching, stuttering, lurching. He felt like he was no longer in control of his body. Why couldn't he stop shaking?

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, trying to get a hold of his body and stop the shivers and shakes that seemed to beat through him. He felt like he had pins-and-needles in his head, and his feet were so cold he was sure they were going to gall off. He didn't particularly want Luke to hear him gag and vomit, coughing over the burning smell, but he didn't have the energy to reach for where he had placed to phone on the top of the toilet and turn it off speaker. He didn't even hear the bang as Luke kicked open the flimsy lock on the door. He only realised he had company when he felt a hand on his back, stroking up and down as he retched into the bowl.

Jess leant to the side, resting his head against the toilet seat and glancing up at his uncle. He saw Lorelai by the basin, picking up the many bottles that seemed to be mocking him and rushing out of the bathroom to probably get them as far away from the messed up young man as possible.

"Luke, I'm sorry."

The man just shushed the boy, pushing his hair away from where it was sticking to his forehead with sweat. Jess was still quite violently shaking, unable to lift his head from where it rested on the seat.

Luke called for Lorelai to help. He pulled his nephew away from the toilet so that she could flush away the acidic smell without anything hitting Jess in the face. He was basically holding the boy up, his body weak and exhausted. Jess could hear Lorelai sniffing and when he finally looked up at her he noticed that she had watery eyes and evident tear stains down her cheeks.

He tried to apologise again but was only met by a weak smile on her part.

"Why's he shaking so much?" Luke muttered.

"It's the shock." Lorelai said, helping Luke settle Jess back so the boy was leaning against the wall, his feet out in front of him, so it'd be easier to help him stand. "I'll get a blanket, that'll help." She escaped the bathroom as soon as she could.

"Do you think you can stand?" Luke asked.

Jess nodded, but reached for his uncle, silently asking for help. Luke held strongly onto his hands as Jess pulled himself up, stumbling away from the wall. With his help, Jess walked out of the bathroom and followed at Luke lead him towards the broken door. He stopped momentarily to wrap the blanket that Lorelai had acquired around the boy's shoulders before leading him out, "I'm getting you out of here, Jess." He said.

"Can you get my books?" Jess asked, looking back into the apartment where a stack of his favourites were lines up next to his mattress. "I don't care about anything else – I need my books." He didn't like how desperate he sounded, but neither of the adults commented. Lorelai simply head back into the place and picked up the small pile of worn paperbacks that Jess had nodded towards, pausing to also pick up the notebook and pencil that was left on his bed, and heading the boys out of the apartment and towards her jeep.

Jess was asleep almost as soon as the door of the Jeep shut behind him. His body giving out of exhaustion, and the warmth of the duvet, along with the reassurance from his uncle meant that he finally gave in and shut his eyes, falling away into unconsciousness.

As soon as Jess was asleep, Luke let out a long breath and felt himself fall away from the car. Lorelai caught him in a hug and pulled his head down so that the man was muffled by her shoulder, her neck. "Did you see the pills?" he said shakily, pulling her closer to him like she was the only thing grounding him, "Did you see how many there were? He was serious Lorelai. He wasn't giving himself a chance to be saved."

"But you did Luke. You saved him."

"I called to shout at him about his mother."

"And he told you what was going on." She implored, "He was certain, he was doing it and then he rang you. Luke, this means not all hope is lost. He told you, and now he needs help."

"I keep picturing how this night could have ended up." He pulled away from Lorelai, looking into the Jeep where Jess was sleeping, "He said he was about to pour the drink. If I was a few seconds too late –"

"But you weren't."

"What am I going to do?"

"I don't know, but right now we need to get both you and him out of here – okay?"

Luke nodded and walked around the car to get into the passenger seat. Lorelai took a few moments to breath herself. She wiped away the tears that had be clinging onto her eyelashes and shook herself to try and get some semblance of strength left before she got into the car and started the drive back to Star Hollow.

Seeing the boy like that. Defeated. Weak. Apologetic. So different from the Jess that she was used to – or at least, the image of Jess that she had assumed he was – She never wanted to experience that horror again.


	2. The Remains of the Day

"How did this happen Lorelai?"

The drive back to Stars Hollow was slower. Lorelai was more cautious as she factored in not only the sleeping boy sprawled in the backseat, but also the way her vision kept blurring, only to be forced away by a violent sniff and an occasional shake of her head.

She let Luke talk to her quietly. They both knew that for once she held no answers to his questions – the many times he had asked for parental advice for the boy, or comfort that he was doing his best, and yet in this situation she was as obtuse as he was.

"I don't understand how he got to such a desperate point without anybody noticing." He continued. Luke had turned to rear-view mirror so that he could keep an eye on the boy as he slept.

"When was the last time you spoke to him?" She whispered as a reply.

Luke shook his head, looking down at his palms that were persistent in their shaking. "He called me after he got back to New York after Liz' wedding," he mused, "Something had happened, he sounded angry – but he assured me he had it covered."

Lorelai took a deep, shaky breath before she uttered what she knew Luke didn't want to acknowledge, "That was months ago Luke."

His head dipped further as he cradled his face in his palms, hiding himself from his own failure.

"Liz told me she was speaking to him more – I didn't want to get in the way if their relationship was finally healing."

Lorelai couldn't help but snort. She quickly glanced back to make sure she hadn't disturbed Jess before she glanced to Luke and finally towards the road.

"I don't think that can ever be fixed, Luke."

"Jeez," He huffed, sitting up and letting his head fall back against the headrest, his eyes shut and his jaw tight, "I knew that. I've always known that she messed up – deep down. But god, I didn't want to admit it."

He glanced back in the mirror. "And look what happened because I wanted to avoid that confrontation for just a little longer."

"Luke-"

"No. I-" He swallowed, turning his head to look out the window and effectively cutting off Lorelai completely, "Can we just… not right now."

Lorelai turned her focus back on the road.

They went to the Gilmore house. Luke wasn't sure he'd be able to get Jess up the stairs of the diner without waking the boy, and he also knew that he'd get a bit more privacy at the Gilmores than he would at the diner tomorrow morning. Lorelai shut off the engine and ran to open the door, holding it open for Luke.

He went around to the back of the car, leaning in and carefully putting his arms under the boy – blanket and all, to pick him up. Jess still didn't wake. His head lolled back as Luke adjusted the boy in his arms, carrying him up the stairs and through into the privacy of the house. He gently laid Jess down on the sofa while Lorelai ran back out to shut the car door – she entered the house quietly, pulling and locking the front door and standing in the entrance of the kitchen, waiting for Luke.

He was readjusting the blankets over Jess, trying not to notice how skinny he looked, or how light he was. After he caught himself pushing away the curls from the young man's face, Luke stood up and followed Lorelai into the kitchen, taking off his cap and pushing his hair away from his face. He accepted her comforting hand and sat with her in silence – listening to the boy's breathing in the other room.

"Did you have any idea?" She asked quietly, so as not to wake the boy.

Luke shook his head.

"Did Liz?"

"She said she thought he was doing better," he let out a bitter laugh, "she thought he'd be okay."

They settled into silence again. Luke going over what his next course of action could be – but everything he had turned up blank. "I can't afford therapy." He started, "I doubt Jess had insurance – and we can't afford the medication. Liz and TJ won't be able to help – they're still paying off the bills from their car crash." He was thinking out loud, but the more he spoke the more desperate he realised the situation was. "What am I supposed to do, Lorelai?"

"We'll figure it out?"

"We?"

"Yes, we. I'm not leaving you alone in this Luke. You know, that's what I thought was meant by the whole 'I'm all in' palaver."

Luke smiled then. For the first time that night he smiled at his girlfriend and pulled on her hand so that she was closer. He put his hand on her cheek and slowly guided her face to his to meet for a short and sweet kiss – "You're brilliant, you know that?"

"I have been told."

Jess woke up the next morning confused. His throat felt like it was on fire, and it felt like his head was being hit over and over. He turned onto his back, feeling the comfortable cushions underneath him and the duvet on top of him. He didn't open his eyes but he tried to remember what had happened, where he was, and why he was in so much pain.

It didn't take him long. His heart sank when he realised that the events of yesterday weren't some kind of weirdly vivid dream. He was used to that feeling as of late. The feeling that his heart was in his stomach, that he was a struggled to breathe, and that any energy he might have was focused on just moving. It didn't occur to him how deep he was getting, how far from himself he was becoming, until he was stood over that basin looking at nothing but the pills and avoiding his reflection in the mirror.

He blinked his eyes open slowly, cautiously. Staring up at the ceiling it didn't take him long to figure out that he was at the Gilmore residence, rather than the diner. He could hear his uncle in the kitchen, on the phone to Caesar and asking him to cover the diner for a while. Jess wasn't looking forward to whatever conversation faced him that morning. He knew it had to be had, but he just didn't want to talk about how desperate he was last night.

He slowly pushed himself up from the sofa, turning so that he sat properly against the cushions. He leant forward, pushing his hair out of his face with his hands and feeling it stick from the sweat that had dried. He turned when he heard footsteps.

Luke stopped short, seeing Jess sat up and awake that early in the morning. He had dark bags under his eyes, and the boy still looked exhausted – like even if he had managed to sleep a whole day away, it still wouldn't be able to cure the fatigue.

"Morning." Jess voice was barely above a whisper. Quiet, croaky. He attempted to clear it but the pain shot through his throat at the sensation.

"Try not to talk Jess," Luke advised, coming to sit opposite the boy and handing him a glass of water. "You were sicking up bile last night," he explained, "that cuts through your throat like knives – it's going to hurt for a while."

Jess nodded, sipping the water slowly and deliberately, refusing to meet his uncle's eyes. When he was finished with the water he handed the glass back to his uncle and nodded towards the bathroom. He mouthed the word 'shower' and got a nod in return, so he headed up the stairs and away from the pitying glance.

He hated that look.

When he was finished in the shower, ignoring that he could feel his ribs as he washed his torso, or the fact that he looked at his fingers and they looked almost alien – E.T like in their boniness, he dried off and put on the clothes that he was wearing to the house. He went down the stairs and saw Luke sat on the sofa, another glass of water next to him, waiting for Jess to come down.

Jess rubbed the towel over his hair one last time, hanging it up on the banister so that it could dry, and sat down heavily next to Luke. He wordlessly drank from the new glass of water and waited for his uncle to say something to him, rather than start the conversation himself.

"You're staying in Stars Hollow." Luke said eventually. It was a command more than a request but Jess answered him regardless.

"I gathered that." His voice was a whisper, unable to strain his voice too much.

"Lorelai went back to New York to get the rest of your stuff this morning."

"Are you two a thing now?"

Luke glared at him, "Don't change the subject."

Jess held up his hands in mock defeat, smiling down at the sofa as he did so.

"I don't really know what to do here Jess." Luke said eventually.

Jess shook his head at his uncle, looking down at the empty glass that he was balancing in his lap. "I'm not a china doll Luke." He said, "I'm not going to start bawling on you every second of the day. I am sorry that I scared you – I kind of scared myself."

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

Jess shrugged at first, but after glancing at his uncle and seeing his hard and determined look, Jess eventually relented. "It wasn't like one day I woke up and realised that I didn't want to be here anymore," he swallowed, his voice still raspy and tired, "It didn't hit me suddenly. It's kind of been an escalating process. It didn't even occur to me that it was a problem, or even anything to worry about. I honestly didn't realise how bad it's gotten, or how lost I've been, until I was admitting it yesterday. I still don't really want to admit it Luke, or talk about it honestly."

"I just need to understand, they maybe I might have a better handle on things."

Jess nodded again. He knew he had to tell Luke what he'd been thinking – he was desperately trying to resist the urge to fall back into his angry, hard self.

"We can talk about it once, here, and then you don't have to say anything about it again if you don't want to." Luke reassured.

Jess grimaced. He had always had a problem with opening up to people, he struggled to get the right words out, and if he did that he always managed to make it sound insincere.

"I started thinking about how difficult I had made everybody's lives. Started thinking about how different it'd be if I was never born, or if I didn't exist. I don't know – I just started feeling tired. Like I was very heavy or something? I just wanted to be shut in a room somewhere and forgotten about."

Jess leant forward, putting the glass down onto the coffee table so that he could tuck his legs under him and fidget to stop feeling as uncomfortable.

"You think you make people's life difficult?"

Jess raised an eyebrow at the man who was temporarily his guardian for the brief stint in his most rebellious years and sighed when the man remained unrelenting in his sincerity.

"I've not made it easy – have I?" Jess didn't wait for his uncle to respond in some falsified defense, "I mean, I have more than enough proof. After Jimmy told me to leave California I became three for three on my guardians kicking me out."

"The guy's a bum, Jess."

"Nah he's not – which kind of makes it worse." Jess sighed, "He's got his own family up there, raising a kid – I was just a bit of a burden."

Jess could see Luke shaking his head at him, and the boy grimaced pre-emptively at his uncle's arguments.

"You should have come back here Jess. You're frustrating, what teenager isn't? – but you're not a burden."

Jess almost laughed – instead all that escaped was a hard breath through his nose. "Nah," he waved the man off, "you had less on your plate having to worry about getting me to fall into line." He began his explanation, closing his eyes as he really began to consider why, or when he had started to feel like he didn't belong anywhere.

"I saw how happy Liz had gotten after my moving out – meeting TJ, getting married. Rory is doing the school thing and achieving her dream. Jimmy has a kid he _can_ raise, and well – I don't know, it just made things click in my head." Jess saw look ready to interject so he held up a hand to stop him, "Then Corey died and it's like everything made sense. I wanted the same emptiness, or nothingness. I just wanted to stop feeling so tired."

"So you laid out the pills."

"So I laid out the pills." Jess confirmed.

"What made you call me back?"

"I honestly don't know, Luke. I was counting how many it'd take for it to be quick while I was first talking to you, and when I hung up I was meant to reach for the first bottle – but it's like my body took over and I was calling you instead."

"How do you feel now?"

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

Jess leant forward on one hand, turning his head so that he could look his uncle in the eye. Luke's face was betraying nothing but concern – out of all of his family, Jess knew that he'd be the one most likely to help, he just wasn't sure if the man could. "I still feel just so heavy. I'm so tired. I kind of want to go to bed and never wake up – but how close I got to doing it last night, that was terrifying. I felt so relieved when I was about to do it – like a weight getting lifted, like I was floating for the first time in months – and then it hit me what I was about to do when I was talking to you and I don't think I've ever been more scared of my own mind."

"You're so young Jess – I don't understand. You have so much potential, so much to experience."

"I don't need a cheerleader right now, as much as I appreciate it Uncle Luke."

"What do you need?"

"I –" he stopped, unsure of the answer himself. "God, I don't know. I just need to stop feeling like this."

"I can't afford a therapist." He said simply after Jess' confession.

Jess scoffed, "Good. I don't want to see a therapist."

"So," Luke drew out the word, "What now?"

Jess breathed, letting out the tension that had been building through the entirety of that conversation, knowing that although it needed to be said, it made him uncomfortable, and if he were being honest – a little repulsed at himself. "Any chance there's a job going at the diner? I'm going to need to money to get my life back on track."

"Anything you need Jess."

"So…" Jess started,

"So?"

"You and Lorelai eh?" the boy asked, waggling his eyebrows at his uncle.

Luke pushed Jess's shoulder, laughing as he stood and indicating to Jess that he should follow. Jess followed his uncle from the house, shutting the door behind him and falling into a step with him as they made the relatively short journey to the diner.

"I would say I told you so, but I'm not that type of guy."

"Sure you're not Jess."


	3. Down and Out in Paris and London

As the Danes men, honorary and certainly, walked through the square, it became obvious the eyes and gossip followed their every step.

"So tell me," Jess said, pulling his jacket closer to his body as though he were trying to hide something, "Is this the usual _The Hoodlum is back_ stares or is this _The Hoodlum tried to kill himself_ stares?"

Jess noticed Luke falter in his step towards the diner – he obviously wasn't expecting Jess to put it so bluntly. It was as if he were trying to pass it off as no big deal, and it occurred to Luke that that was exactly what he was doing. Jess turned to face his frozen uncle and waited for him to recover.

"I don't know –" Luke swallowed hard, he stuttered his movements forward and attempted to keep himself as casual as possible. "I did shut the diner quite abruptly last night."

"Sorry Luke."

"Stop apologising, Jess. You'll find out soon enough, I see Ms Patty perched in the window."

Jess grimaced, nodding and following his uncle towards the diner, he ignored the silence that fell, and the stares that followed him as he told Luke he was going to go and change into any clothes that he might've left behind.

As Jess shut the door of the apartment upstairs, he let out a long breath.

"Just got to live in a town full of people who can't keep their noses out of anybody's business don't you Luke," he grumbled to himself, pushing away from the door and towards the small cupboard of clothes. He chose something baggy to wear – he knew that he was hiding how much weight he had lost from not only his uncle, but the rest of the town, and as he looked at his ribs poking through his skin he almost gagged at his own repulsion.

He forced himself to breathe through his gritted teeth and push down the bile as he made his way back down into the diner and situated behind the counter. "Just take orders for now," Luke said, "And eat a Danish or something – I haven't seen you eat yet."

Jess nodded, ignoring the request to eat as he attempted to stop himself from feeling nauseous by gritting his teeth and biting the inside of his cheek. He picked up a pencil, tapping it twice on the order pad and made his way to the first customer.

Anyone watching would have noticed his cautious movements. Jess was hunched over in his work, hiding his face and form from the onlookers. He moved his weight from one foot to another, and focused much too hard on writing down the orders. He managed to get away with the minimal amount of conversation with the customers who he barely remembered living there from his last stint at Stars Hollow.

That was, until, he was forced to take the order of the town gossips – Miss Patty and Babette.

"Afternoon Doll."

Jess nodded to the both, flipping open his order pad and waiting for them to order – hoping not to speak to either of them if he could help it.

"You're back then?"

"It seems that way."

"Glorious news." Patty grinned, looking the boy up and down as she used to, but she noticed his smaller frame and almost faltered in her comedic appraisal.

"Are you doing to order?" He nodded towards the menus that both held in their hand.

The women seemed to falter and stutter, but got out their orders, and Jess walked off to pass it off to Caesar.

"That was weird don't you think?" Babette leant forward, whispering to her conspirator and sending side glances to the boy who offered them a great array of stories the last time he was there.

"That he's back?"

Babette hummed in affirmation, "And he seemed skinny – doesn't he seem skinny?"

"Do you think his being back is related to Luke kicking everyone out last night?"

"I thought Lorelai kicked everyone out for some _alone time."_

"It seems like too big of a coincidence don't you think?"

Their gossip was interrupted by Luke dumping their orders in front of them. They noticed his glare, and his thundering expression and wisely chose to change the topic of conversation – at least until they were out of the diner.

Jess raised his eyebrows at Luke's anger, "Well," he commented, tapping his pencil on the notepad, "I'm pretty sure that's not your everyday grumpy – that's a new grumpy."

"Shut up, Jess."

Lorelai came bursting into the diner in a flurry of coats, scarfs, hats and a busted-up duffel bag. "I come baring gifts!" She exclaimed with a tune, pushing the bag into Jess' arms and twirling around to kiss Luke on the lips.

"Wow," She commented, "You're grumpier than usual"

Jess raised his eyebrow at Luke, nodding his head toward the crazy woman that Luke now called his girlfriend, and slowly let the bag fall from his grip.

"That was quick –" Luke started.

"Where are my books?" Jess pushed in, pushing the bag of what he presumed were clothes out of the way with his foot and moving from behind the counter.

"Jeep."

Jess nodded, not even bothering to make a comment to Luke and almost ran out of the diner to collect his possessions.

"Wow," Lorelai turned back to Luke as they both watched the boy bolt from the diner, "Loving the gratitude from that boy."

Luke shook his head, looking down and rubbing a hand across his forehead. Lorelai leant forward and rubbed her hand up and down his arm and muttered close to him – aware of the residents currently sat around the diner. "Are you okay?"

Luke nodded silently. Turning quickly out of her embrace to deliver the orders that had stacked up. Lorelai sighed, dumping herself on the nearest stool and watched as Jess struggled back into the diner with the books they had collected the night before. She was about to get up to help, but as the boy stalked past he uttered a sharp "I am not an invalid." And was determined to make a racket on the way up the stairs.

Lorelai and Luke shared a look of mutual exasperation before he got back to work, and she ventured away from the diner and to her belated work.

Jess let the books fall from his grasp, them scattering on his bed. Amongst them he noticed the red notebook he had taken to scribbling in on occasion. He slowly settled himself down on the bed next to the pile and slipped the book from under the rest. He breathed in deeply as he flipped through the pages – the indentations from his pen marking a story he hadn't intended on starting.

As he caught glimpses of the words he had written, Jess was in almost disbelief. He shocked himself at how – how _dark_ the writing was. The character he had created in those fever dreams between the dream world and reality – the moments where he was so engrossed in escapism that he conjured a door himself – the character was downright… well…

"Depressed." He said out-loud.

The poetic almost lyrical message that his fabled protagonist was sprouting was from Jess' own mind and he couldn't help but cringe at the hopelessness of the man's view.

 _'_ _I don't know what it is. I've always had this darkened view of my future. Colours didn't seem to fit in to my idea of what my life is to come. You'd see in movies these family images. Couples smiling and cuddling, surrounded by children and elders, all looking back on what they had achieved, and what they still had left to do._

 _It didn't seem to fit with my idea. I couldn't see daylight in my future - just sort of the darks_

 _I think that's why, whenever it was sunny, I'd go and sit out in the light. Not necessarily with anything to do, just sort of sitting with the sun warming my being and forcing a smile on my face. As I got older, that same ideal came with a bottle of beer, a cooler and the music I had come to enjoy blasting in my ears – blocking out the world. But it remained majorly the same. '_

Jess scoffed at this revelation. Of course the man was depressed – you're meant to write what you know.

In a fit of energy and rage that he hadn't realised he still possessed, Jess threw the book away from him. He used his whole body in the feat of physical strength and the pages clashed against the adjacent wall, sending a few of Luke's high school trophy's crashing to the floor.

He cringed at the noise, but stayed rooted as he forced himself to breath. Slowly. Carefully. Calculated.

He shook his head, letting his head curl in front of his head. He sighed, and got straight to cleaning up his mess – picking up the trophy's and hiding the notebook away from Luke's curious eyes.

He hated himself in that moment.

He hated himself.

How could he be so stupid? How could he not see the escalation – it was right there in front of him.

Deep down he knew he was worth more than the _shit_ he was forced to deal with in his life. He was worth more that living in the _shithole_ he was forced to call his home for months in New York _._ Worth more than his failed friendships, relationship and _piece of shit mother._

He was worth more than the murky, dark, desperate _shit_ drowning him.

With that thought, and the resonated understanding that although he knew he was worth more – it might be more difficult than just thinking it to actually make him _believe it._

He made it back downstairs half an hour later. Luke didn't mention his prolonged disappearance, and instead nodded towards the food waiting to be brought to customers. Jess ducked his head down, he took the plates to when his uncle indicated and continued his shift with much the same indifference he always had.

During the dinner rush, Lane Kim came into the diner in a flurry of hastened apologies and throwing an apron around her waist and gripping an order pad and pencil like they were her life line.

"Ah," Jess audibly reacted, he pulled back when he saw her and with a curious glance at Luke that showed this wasn't unusual behaviour he accepted that apparently, she was working at the diner.

"Jess!"

And _apparently_ the rumour mill hadn't caught up to her yet.

"That'd be me."

He attempted to slip past her to the kitchen but she seemed to snap from whatever shock she was experiencing and followed him with a pointed finger, furrowed eyebrows, and an accusational speech seemingly prepared.

"If you're back to fulfil some weird, Norman Bates-esque obsession with _my_ best friend then you better frickin' believe that I won't actively stand in your way –"

"Lane."

"You've changed your mind more time than… than –" She growled when she couldn't instantly come up with a comparison, "than Spinal Tap have drummers!"

Jess rolled his eyes, picking up the bread rolls that Caesar had left to be taken out and once again slipped past the agitated girl towards the patrons. "Lane –"

She followed him, poking him in the pack with her pointed, accusing finger and continued her rant. "You can't keep walking in and out of her life like you own it because let me tell you my friend she doesn't _need_ you anymore –"

"Lane!" He said louder, clattering the plates on the customers table, eliciting a jump from them, but successfully forcing silence from the younger Kim. "Are you done?"

She backed down, nodding. Her eyes darted side to side when she realised she had created a scene and Jess discretely nodded his head to the curtain so that he could explain himself.

"Luke brought me back here Lane. I did not come of my own accord. I am not here to ruin whatever good thing Rory has got going on right now. I am not here to cause trouble. I just want to lay low until I'm once again allowed to leave."

"Luke brought you here?"

"Yes. Is that all?"

She nodded and Jess huffed as he pushed the curtain aside and ignored the looks from regulars that greeted him in his return.

He supposed he'd have to start getting used to those looks.

Later that evening, after Luke had locked up the diner and Jess had successfully managed to avoid any more excited and gossipy glances or conversation, they sat opposite each-other at the dining table, both actively attempting to avoid the awkward silence.

There was a plate of food in front of Jess that he had honestly been attempting to eat – but he supposed smaller portions of food filled him up quicker than he used to.

"You haven't eaten all day." Luke broke the silence with a topic that Jess would have preferred to avoid.

"I know."

The honesty from his nephew shocked Luke into another prolonged silence that he found difficult to break from.

"Is it related to –?" He didn't want to say the word.

"Maybe. But more likely the fact that I couldn't afford to."

"You're not paying for the groceries."

"I meant before. It's hard to remember to eat when you get used to not."

Luke nodded to himself – he'd have to keep track of that.

"Tell me what you're finding appetising – we can start small."

Jess' head jumped up at those words. He looked at his uncle for a very long time, silent in his contemplation, but Luke just sat there and waited for the boy to come to whatever conclusion he was going to reach.

All that Jess could think was that his uncle wasn't angry. He saw not frustration, no confusion and certainly no pity in the man. He was adapting purely to help Jess get an appetite back, without any qualms or double-standards.

And instantly with that question came images and smells of food that made Jess' mouth water with temptation of a real meal he might be craving.

The small grin on Jess' face was all the proof Luke needed that he was doing the right thing. This would be worth it no matter how hard it would be.


	4. The Secret Garden

Tuesday was the first day that Jess couldn't get out of bed.

Luke had attempted to get the boy to move when he failed to go to the diner for his shift. He stomped up the stairs ready to shake him awake like he had to do many times during his first stretch living there. Yet, when he burst into the room he saw Jess lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling. The boy was awake, but he seemed so far away.

Luke was cautious, calling the boy's name and getting no reaction. When he approached the bed, Jess' eye's met his for the briefest of moments before returning to the ceiling.

"Leave me alone, Luke." Jess croaked out. His voice sounded hoarse and overworked. If Luke hadn't of known any better, he would have thought that the boy had been screaming for hours before he attempted speaking that morning.

"Jess, just get out of bed, you'll feel better –"

"No." Jess interrupted, "No, I won't. Please Luke, just leave me alone. Please."

"I don't want to leave you alone like this –"

"I'm not going to try and off myself." Jess practically growled, he turned his back on the man, pulling the flimsy covers over his shoulders and lifting his legs so they met his chest in a fetal position. "I just- Leave me alone. Please."

Luke nodded, and made his way back down the stairs in a lot less of a sociable mood then he was when he went up. He called Lane for extra help and no one uttered a word about Jess' absence.

Jess went in and out of sleeping that day. He'd wake up to see a smoothie next to him with what he assumed was protein powder mixed in after Luke had the _thrilling_ idea to start beefing him up. He'd drink some of it, aware that he should be thankful that he was being looked after when all he felt like doing was curling up in the dark and being forgotten.

No matter how long he slept though, he still felt this overwhelming exhaustion that lasted him through the day and far into the night. He took note of Luke returning upstairs at one point, his movements quiet and slow – cautious of disturbing the boy. He didn't ask how Jess was again, for which he was thankful, he instead attempted to work around the boy.

Luke fell asleep on the sofa that night, his body facing Jess as he attempted to keep a watchful eye.

The next morning Jess still didn't want to face the world. His uncle had already gone down stairs to open up the diner, and judging by the clock on the wall had let Jess sleep until past the morning rush. He turned his body around and resigned himself to moving.

He had a sluggish and slow shower, probably using up most of the hot water, and proceeded to dress in just as much enthusiasm. His movements felt weighted down and every lift of an arm proved his weakness and worthlessness to the boy. He wore sweatpants and an extra-large top, past the point of caring about his appearance. The natural curls on his head settled in their own disarray and Jess slowly made his way down into the diner.

His uncle actually stopped mid-step when he saw his nephew, and Jess would have laughed if he had the capacity.

"I'm not working today," Jess said simply as he approached the man, taking the shaking plates from Luke's hands and placing them on the correct table with a curt smile at the strangers.

"That- That's fine."

"I'm going to go to Andrews – browse some books."

Luke repeated himself.

Jess nodded and turned to walk out the door. He was stopped suddenly by Luke calling his name and shoving a bottle in his hand before ushering him out.

Jess looked down at the bottle and saw a different variation of the smoothie his Uncle had made him the day previously – he smiled and began drinking it as he made his way to the only place he actually enjoyed in the tiny town.

He slipped into the store and instantly that feeling that he could breathe again flowed through him like a drug. It was a unique smell – the smell of books. Especially the second-hand ones that seemed to merge with the new. A new book smelt like plastic, and old one smelt like nature, like wind, like travel, like freedom.

Andrew wasn't behind the counter when he entered, so Jess simply made his way to the back of the store where all the particularly old books were kept – the ones that were less attractive and falling away at the seams. He used to find himself in this store quite a lot when he was in the town the first time. It had a comfortable quiet to it that was difficult to find elsewhere.

Jess let a smile grace his face as he took in the shelves at the back, letting his fingers hover over some of the authors, he knew his afternoon would be lost collecting more items for his mind to drown in.

It was only when he felt a tap on the shoulder, and he jumped, spinning around to the friendly face of the owner that Jess realised how long he must've been looking. A pile at his feet of books he felt he needed to buy, and the sky outside a deep purple that could only suggest a late hour.

"I've got to close soon, Jess, sorry to disturb."

Jess shook his head, smiling at the man and lifted his stack. He balanced them precariously against his chest, able to settle his chin on the top of his pile, and he carried them to the till. "I didn't realise how long I was here for, sorry Andrew."

"Don't be silly. When you left I lost one of my best customers." His smile was huge, wrinkling his cheeks as he let out a breathy chuckle, "I'm happy you're back to keep me in business."

"That makes one person then," Jess muttered under his breath.

Andrew continued to ring up Jess' pile, counting the prices with a calculator and writing up a manual receipt.

"Till broken?"

"It's not adding the values correctly." Andrew complained, continuing to type in the calculator, "It's been messing up my books – it's safer doing it the old-fashioned way."

"I could take a look if you like?"

Jess only noticed Andrew's started reaction to his offer when the man's hands stopped writing on his personal receipt. His eyebrows were comically to his hair line and it was evident that he wasn't sure he could take him seriously.

"Honestly," Jess said, trying to trigger a reaction from the man, "I'm quite handy with all of that stuff," he waved his hand over the technology, "ask Luke. I've probably rebuilt his entire diner bit by bit."

"Are you sure Jess?"

The boy nodded. "I'd have to borrow Luke's tools but I don't mind. You've given me a little haven here enough times for me to owe you a favour at this point."

"Well, if you think you can do it." Andrew said eventually, writing the final purchase on Jess' receipt and asking for the payment. Jess handed over the money and dragged the books over to him, balancing them against his chest, his chin resting on the top.

"I can go and get the tools now if you like?" He said, grunting slightly as he lifted the unexpected weight.

"Actually – I need to –" Andrew cut himself awkwardly, and Jess realised that the man didn't entirely trust him alone in his store. He couldn't blame the man he supposed.

Jess shut his eyes, nodding and made to step out the store, letting Andrew open the door for him to make it easier. "Well," he commented, "Whenever – you know where to find me."

Andrew nodded back at him, attempting a smile as just struggled back towards the diner. There were a few people outside at the late hour, enjoying the lights that Taylor had ordered to be put up around the time for more of a 'winter fairy-tale'-esque town. Jess meandered past without much hassle. He was balancing the books the best he could but often found himself having to stop and rest on his way back – he just didn't have the energy he used to have.

He managed to push open the door of the diner with some rearranging and placed the pile he had accumulated onto one of the empty dining tables. The pile was significant and Jess felt a ghost of a smile appear on his face as he skimmed over the titles, the worn covers, and the embossed wording. For the first time in what was realistically weeks, but felt like a lifetime, he was excited about reading. He was excited about doing something, and he clutched onto that feeling – the only thing grounding him to this glimpse at the vibrancy he'd lost.

The pile of books would have themselves been a clear cry for help;

Mrs. Dalloway; Tender is the Night; Catcher in the Rye; The Bell Jar; Disturbing the Peace; Ordinary People; She's Come Undone; The Passion of Alice; The Marriage Plot.

Well, Jess decided, he's going to do what he does best to get through this – read.

Looking at Luke made him feel guilty. He knew he should be sleeping but each day flickered through whatever he would be feeling. That weekend he was feeling normal. After another bad day on the Friday – where he had struggled to find the energy to open his eyes, let alone get out of bed, he was thankful for some normalcy back.

He had helped Luke at the diner, he slipped back into his aloof confidence. He caught himself nibbling on snacks throughout the day without even thinking about the significance of his appetite. Catcher in the Rye in his back pocket, words and phrases circled that related to Holden Caulfield and often found himself snickering at the irony of his once fabled nickname in Stars Hollow becoming his reality.

He focuses on the characters' myriad acts of kindness, rather than his 'rebel-without-a-cause' image and finds himself witfully wishing he had the same opportunities to help others selflessly as the depressed character does – perhaps then he would get a sense of belonging.

As Sunday evening drew to a close, Luke forced Jess to sit down with him on the sofa and watch a 'spontaneous' film with him. He put on It's a Wonderful Life and kept giving Jess looks and humming in agreement with Clarence the angel every time he said something significant.

He neglected to remember that Jess knew Luke never actually watched films all the way through. Jess also knew that Luke was far from ever getting into the Christmas spirit early. So the coincidental significance was less 'empowering' and more 'embarrassing'.

"So we watched this simply because you want to 'get excited' for Christmas?"

"Uh, Yes?"

"Wow Uncle Luke. Lorelai is really rubbing off on you – I'm going to have to inform Taylor of this new discovery."

"Shut up Jess."

"Maybe he'll actually convince you to decorate the shop this year –"

"I swear to God if you don't stop talking –"

"I'll put in the order for tinsel and mistletoe, now shall I?"

He forced his uncle out of the chair and huffing out of the small apartment – Jess couldn't help the chuckle that seemed to explode out of him.

Yet, as he uncle slept near him, and Jess sat perched against the window overlooking the town he couldn't help but silently thank the man for doing his best.

He didn't want to sleep and forget feeling light. He wasn't sure what he'd be feeling the next day, but in that moment, he was hopeful that he'd get better somehow.

Lorelai knew something was wrong the moment she stepped into the diner. She was ready to swirl into her boyfriend's establishment with smiles and a kiss before she let herself become a recluse and work on the things she'd been putting off for far too long for the inn.

Yet, when she walked in, Luke was cleaning an already clean mug, glancing up at the apartment every few seconds and ignoring any call for his attention. Lane was running circles around him as she attempted to keep everyone happy.

"See if there's anything you can do," the small girl said to Lorelai as she passed, "He's been cleaning that mug for 30 minutes now."

Lorelai nodded, determined in her mission and grabbed the man from behind the counter, pulling him into the store room and shutting the door behind her.

"What's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"With Jess? Something is up Luke – you're not with it. How is he doing?"

Luke shook his head, he turned his back to Lorelai and began resorting items that definitely didn't need handling. "It's another bad day."

"What does that even mean?"

"It's like he's fine, he goes through these stages of normalcy where you think that this whole thing is just some weird fever dream, but then –"

"Then?" Lorelai urged once Luke fell silent.

"Then he has these episodes."

"Is he crying? I know you can get nervous when people cry?"

"No, no." Luke urged, "It's not like he's a bawling mess or anything. I think I could handle that a bit better."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know, it's like he's vacant. He's not there. He gets so lost in his own mind that he just closes off – and not the usual Jess closing off – more like shutting down completely."

"What do you do?"

"Nothing I really can do," Luke shrugged, "I just let him sleep – it seems that's all he does when he's like that. I can't get through to him when he's like that – I just feel so helpless."

Lorelai nodded, readjusted the strap on her work bag and was very determined in her sudden plan. "I'll go up there."

"No."

"No? I'll just go up and do the work I need to do – I was going to find an empty room at the inn but I can do it anywhere."

"No Lorelai. Why would that work?"

"It'd help you focus on work for a bit – make sure he's not doing anything other than sleeping. Bring him water, food."

"Lorelai…" he was obviously unsure but she simply put her hands up and shook her head, telling him that he was fighting a losing battle.

When she first went up to the apartment she would have thought it was empty. His head was completely covered by the blanket and although he wasn't snoring, she could barely hear his stuttering and uneven breathes. She was suddenly very nervous that the boy was crying, and she wasn't entirely sure how she'd deal with that.

She put her work on the dining table, moving to the fridge and reading the list pinned to the front – a list in Jess' handwriting of different foods, some crossed off, some enthusiastically put down with exclamation marks and underlined.

\- Romaine Salad _not anchovies Luke. Never Anchovies._

\- Pasta! I'm Italian.

\- Hot Dog with everything. Onions. Flat Cheese. Every Sauce.

\- Ice Cream in cones

\- Any Soup. I mean anything. So long as I get bread

\- Turkey Sub

She quickly realised this was a list of food that Jess wanted to eat – and she couldn't help but admire Luke for thinking of this weird menu, order scenario. Even she had noticed that the boy was struggling with his appetite – a concept foreign to Lorelai, or any Gilmore honestly.

She glanced back at the menu, saw that there was at least one thing she could make for him and set about putting together the sandwich before she lost herself in her work. She placed it next to the boy, along with a glass of water and avoided watching him as he moved under the blanket.

"I'm going to stay up here to work if that's alright Jess. I won't disturb you, but Luke said I could work on balancing the books up here with some quiet."

He grumbled, and that's all she got from him, so she set about looking through the numbers that were messily scattered over their ledger.

Sometime later Lorelai leant back on the chair, letting her arms stretch out above her head and letting out a tired groan. She'd managed to get a surprising amount of work done in that room. Being forced in one space, without temptation of the television being on, or furniture to move, or magazine to cut up, she could sit and sort out the work she'd been putting off for far too long.

She glanced at the bed that she had been periodically checking for the hours she'd been there, and rather than the mound under the covers, the boy was finally sitting up. Leaning against the headboard, his head back against the wall, his hair curled and falling into his face. His palms were clutched together in his lap and his eyes were closed. He seemed to be focused only on his breathing.

She noticed the glass of water she'd placed on his bedside table was drank, and there was a bite taken out of the sandwich.

His eyes opened slowly. Blinking away the darkness and slowly letting his eyes fall from the ceiling to the woman who was sitting at the table. He didn't react at first, just looked at her as she looked back at him – silent and waiting.

Eventually, he nodded. Turned his body out from under the covers, letting his feet fall onto the wood and glare down at his bare legs. Lorelai almost gasped at how little mass there actually was on the boy – evident without his baggy jeans or shirts that he seemed to be wearing more often than not nowadays – but she knew that would do little to help the boy.

He picked up some clothes on his way to the bathroom and didn't make any comment as he passed. Lorelai turned back to her work, making sure to save the most recent document she was working on and return to the messages that had been building up on her phone. He didn't say anything as he came back into the room, nor anything when he picked up a book, his notebook and a pencil, and he didn't say goodbye when he left the room. He did, however, shut the door quietly behind him.

Lorelai sighed loudly and took out her frustration on her laptop keys.

When Luke came up moments later she barely registered his entrance.

"How did you do that?"

He looked in awe. He was watching Lorelai like she was some kind of ethereal being, and she, for the first time in her life, was speechless.

"Uh… What?"

"He's out of bed, Lorelai. He just walked past me and has gone out to read. How did you do that?"

"I didn't do anything – I've just been sat here all day. He hasn't even spoken to me."

Luke paused, considering what she said before explaining his glee, "He's never recovered that quickly."

"What do you mean?"

"When he has a day like today – in bed, unable to get up. He has never recovered that quickly. That usually means he's out for at least 36 hours. You're being here managed to get him back on his feet in 10. That's incredible."

"I... Uh... Wow... Um –"

"You're speechless."

"Yeah I uh-"

She was interrupted by Luke pitching forward and pulling her into a kiss rivalling their first. As he pulled away he uttered a simple "Thank you," into her lips, the smile on his face huge and the hold on her tight.

She didn't think she had done anything special, but she wasn't about to reject his thanks – it'd just be rude.


	5. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

**TRIGGER WARNING.**

 **WILL SUMMARISE EVENTS OF CHAPTER AT BEGINNING OF NEXT CHAPTER FOR THOSE WHO CANNOT AND FEEL THEY SHOULD NOT READ IT.**

His bank statements were stacked up on the table. Information regarding his savings accounts. His profits and t-accounts. His credit statements. His stock of perishables and unperishable. His till receipts.

Every document he could find in regard to how much money he could likely sacrifice each month. What he was able to juggle about and get rid of in order to have enough money to pay for the best kind of counselling he could afford for Jess. It helped that he had no mortgage to pay, and he could cut down on the amount spent on groceries each month easily.

But, as he crumpled into his arms, his cap falling off his head and a sigh falling from his lips, it was evident he would have to dip into his savings. The savings in place for a home someday. The savings in place for a child of his own.

If he wanted the best for Jess, then he'd just have to make that sacrifice.

Lorelai had come into the diner earlier that week, a stack of papers in her hand and a list of contact numbers for therapists in the immediate area; doctors that specialised in mental health; articles that implored the importance of talking to someone – of seeking professional help.

Luke had resigned himself then of the reality of this. He'd been trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. They never spoke about it. Jess would continue to be his sarcastic self, just with this added sense of brooding. He was scribbling in a red notebook quite a bit that Luke just assumed was a journal – and he therefore never brought it up. They continued to eat their Jess-approved meals, with Luke occasionally adding some healthy alternative to the menu. Jess continued to work at the diner and started to gather some savings. He continued to have good days, and the occasional bad day that they never spoke about.

Yet, there would be times where Luke would catch Jess looking at himself in the mirror with a clear repulsion. He would catch him pinching his arms – Luke learnt soon enough that this was a way of causing himself pain. He would catch him staring at a page of his book for far too long – like he couldn't even bring himself to concentrate on what was once his comfort.

He knew that he wasn't getting better by sheer will alone.

There was a crash followed by a series of yells from downstairs and Luke grumbled as he pushed himself away from his work and towards the disturbance. It was clear what it was from the second he pushed aside the curtain.

"You're back?"

"Yes. Now would you move Dean? I'm trying to clean up the glass that you dropped."

The man didn't move.

"When are you going to finally leave Stars Hollow in peace and actually leave for good Jess?"

Luke visibly winced. Dean had no clue how dangerous his words were, and yet Jess stood up taller against him and let a smirk fall on his face as though there was nothing wrong.

"I'll leave the moment you stop finding it annoying."

"Never." The man growled.

"Then you have you answer. Now, could you move? Or am I going to have to call Dr Frankenstein to come and collect you?"

Dean turned and left in a huff, the diner door slamming behind him. Jess bent down to pick up the glass that Dean had dropped in shock of seeing him, picking up the bigger pieces while shaking his head at the boy's ridiculous feud.

"Jess?"

"Two second's Luke." Jess grumbled, wrapping the glass in newspaper and moving out of the way so that Caesar could sweep up the remains. After throwing the remains in the bin, he turned to his uncle who was leaning against the wall, his arms folded and a scowl on his face.

"What was that?"

"I know, I know." He sighed, "Not my best comeback, but it was all I could think of in the time I had."

"Jess."

"I'll start compiling a list – Now that I know Dean is still a freak, I can prepare ahead of time."

"Jess come on!"

"It wasn't my fault Luke." Jess said eventually.

Luke grumbled, running a hand over his face. He nodded towards the stairs, "Just go take your break or something," he said, "cool off."

Jess took a step back, nodding at the command. He felt irrationally angry at his uncle, so rather than shout like he desperately wanted to do he grabbed his notepad from the side of the counter and pushed himself up the stairs.

It had always been like that. It seemed to Jess that whenever he was pitted against Dean he always lost. When Luke had berated him about fixing up after the party, despite the fact that Dean was the first one to throw the punch. When Jess was accused of fighting Dean to earn that black eye – the accusation lay on him. Rory hiding her relationship with Jess in order to spare Dean's feelings. Said relationship being threatened by him every moment – as though Rory was some prize to be won.

It's not like anyone would believe that Dean had said those things to Jess. Dean was the golden boy and could do no wrong.

Jess threw himself on the nearest dining chair and let his notepad open at a random page. He closed his eyes and let himself breathe. He tried to store away the anger – he had been angry about Dean too many times in the past to let it get to him now. They were no longer in some sick competition over Rory's attention – he didn't need to get so riled up about the boy anymore. He could threaten nothing from Jess. Jess had nothing.

He breathed. Opened his eyes and pulled the notepad towards him, slipping the biro out from between the folding. Ever since he reread through his ramblings, he began to create the character he despised with more depth than he thought capable. Fleshing him out left Jess with no other option than to write him a story to explain his emotions, his thoughts, and put him in situations to redeem himself. He wrote the story of the depressed man with such a vigour he even surprised himself – it was as if putting this fictional man through the equivalent pain, he was relieving himself of his own.

The ink in his pen had been stuttering through its last remains for the past ten minutes. It's fainting grey, no matter the pressure he pushed, made him grumbled and swear through his fictional world until finally the spell was broken and he was only writing indentations into the scrappy paper.

He blindly reached for another, throwing the useless one in the general direction of the waste-bin. As his hand lay on the table it crumpled over an excess of papers that he hadn't noticed when he had first sat down.

He finally brought his eyes up from his own written words and noticed the collection of papers that littered the dining table. Full of numbers, figures, and official greetings. T-accounts and Luke's black book for diner finances. A calculator, and scribblings on a scrap piece of paper.

He knew he should respect his uncle's privacy, but Jess still found himself reaching for the scrap of paper and attempting to make sense of the scribblings.

The numbers were evident Luke's finances. But the scrap of paper had prices on it – monthly, or weekly prices that would cause Luke to dip into his savings.

Jess knew that Luke had been saving up for his future family. As much as he was gruff, Luke was through and through a family man, and had let slip a number of times his view of the perfect future.

Jess' first thought was maybe he was actually going to be buying a house with Lorelai – taking the next step.

He found himself smiling – then his heart dropped.

Under the scraps was a list of numbers and information regarding therapy, counselling, and mental health professionals.

He was dipping into his savings for Jess. He was finding scraps of money so that he could help his delinquent, good-for-nothing, broken nephew. He was putting his happy future on hold to save the broken boy who was far from _his_ problem.

Jess stared at the papers, passing them from hand to hand, unable to concentrate long enough to read the words further than his discovery. He stood up and began pacing, listening to his steps echo through the room, the rhythm putting him in some form of trance.

He felt like he couldn't breathe. He could feel each beat of his hear pound through his head and it felt as though his blood was aching to seep out of him. It was as if every gasp of an inhalation came the emotion that he struggled to keep in – the sob that he'd feel wrack his body, the tears that he felt were desperate to escape.

 _Why?!_

That was the only question desperately wracking through his mind. Why did he feel like he was on the precipice of some great fall? The adrenaline pumping through his body – some kind of fight or flight instinct kicking in.

He had to get out of there. He felt trapped into a corner – pushed away and forgotten.

Jess ran to the bathroom, pushing his way through the dining room – knocking a chair over in the process. Clutching his stomach as though he were in some great pain he leant over the toilet bowl and gagged – coughing and spluttering. He fell on his knees, gripping the toilet bowl and tried to breathe through the panic.

When he felt like he could stand, he slowly pulled himself up to face the sink, glaring at the sweat that dripped down his forehead and into his eyes. He fumbled with the faucet, desperately splashing cold water on his face – wiping off the droplets and bringing a handful up to his mouth to sip from.

He let himself breath, trying to distract himself from the way he could feel the blood pumping through his body, echoing through his ears. The throbbing of his head that seemed to get stronger and stronger until he had to force his eyes closed – his hands pulling to his temples as he attempted to smooth the pain away.

He glanced up at the mirror, expecting to see blood pouring from his nostrils, or his ears, or anything that could be a reason for that much pain – the cabinet door was slightly open in a morning haste. As he glanced at himself his eyes flickered to the medicine. Luke had taken out all drugs from the premises that Jess could accidently, or intentionally, harm himself with and yet there in front of him was the shaving kit that Luke had only ever used for special occasions.

He found himself reaching for it. He wasn't sure what he was doing or why but he grabbed the bag and found himself digging through it with a speed he wasn't even sure he had. There was a pack of separate unopened blades, ready to be placed on a new handle. He fumbled with the packaging and stopped, staring at the metal on the ceramic surface for what felt like a long time, but was realistically the breath of a moment that it took for a bead of sweat to drag from his hairline to his brow.

His hands were shaking as he reached for the sharp blade. He felt suffocated. He felt blind. He felt deaf. He felt like nothing so as his hand slipped on the cold metal he had the sudden want to _become nothing._

He wanted to feel _nothing._

He felt like his movements blurred with the swiftness of his decision. He cut hard, from mid-arm up to his wrist, and only stopped when he heard himself hiss from the pain of it.

He felt his heart beating on his chest, speeding up as he watched the blood. The vividly red blood seep from the wound and tickle a path down his arms. He was dazzled by that red line. Feeling the pain of his own actions was distracting him enough from the pain in his mind that he took a breath and felt it take. Suddenly his lungs were once again full of air, his eyes had refocused and he could hear the subtle sound of people in the diner below.

The bathroom was red, staining from his own blood and suddenly Jess felt the panic return to him but in an entirely new way. He was already feeling weak, and as he stumbled to the towels, attempted to reach one to stop the bleeding as much as he could he slipped over in a puddle of his own being. An almighty crash resounded through the apartment and down to the diner where Jess had pulled down the shower curtain rail and smashed the only mirror in the apartment.

Luke froze.

The diner halted it's lively chatter along with the echo of a crash that came from upstairs, and a thud that followed.

Luke froze for a singular tick of a clock hand.

Then he bolted. He took the stairs two at a time and pulled his way up the stairs and into the apartment. There was a clear path to the bathroom – a chair knocked out of place, papers scattered on the floor, his budget crumpled into a mess. Luke ran for the bathroom and didn't even hesitate to kick down the door.

He saw the red first.

The blood that had diluted in the droplets of water left in the sink.

The vivid red against the cool tile of the bathroom, pooling and thick enough that the colour of the room was lost.

Jess was crouched among the chaos of a lopsided curtain rail, a dent in the wall where a toilet roll holder once stood and the remnants of the mirror that crashed off in his fall. He had several towels clutched to his wrist, but they were staining red with the speed of his bleeding. His head was lolling but the boy was still crying, apologetic and gasping for breath.

Luke didn't hesitate to dive for the boy. He readjusted the towels and screamed. He screamed, ignoring the flinch from the teenager. His voice become gruff and hoarse, but he screamed until he heard footsteps – and then he began demanding an ambulance.

"I'm sorry Luke."

Luke pulled Jess over to him, forcing pressure onto his wrist to such a degree that it made both uncle and nephew wince. He found himself rocking back and forth, muttering that it'd be okay to all and everyone concerned.

"I didn't think it'd make this much mess – I'm sorry."

"Jess be quiet. It'll be okay. Don't apologise."

"I didn't think there would be this much blood." His voice was shaking as he rambled. "I didn't think it'd be this difficult to clean up."

Luke tried to put more pressure on the wound. He found himself begging. Praying to a god he didn't trust.

The sirens wailed loud through the quiet town. Luke heard patrons down in his diner urgently direct paramedics up to the room.

He wasn't aware of much after that. Jess was pried from his arms and out of the apartment. Luke urged to follow.

"Someone call Lorelai," he shouted behind himself, tripping over his feet as he stumbled towards the ambulance.

He saw someone nod affirmative before the ambulance doors were shut and Luke was locked in with medical demands and the sound of Jess sobbing.

She'd parked over two spaces. Her handbag was wet with the coffee she had thought wouldn't spill in there. Her heel had broken off after she had stumbled down the stairs of the inn. She was pretty sure she was still holding the booking forms of the customer she was supposed to be serving. She was definitely sure she was clutching onto her mobile – still flipped open. She vaguely hopes that Lane had hung up because she _definitely_ hadn't.

Yet somehow, she made it to the hospital.

She hobbled in. Her one in-tact heel forcing her to walk up-down-up-down like a boat forcing itself over the waves.

"Jess Mariano," She said at reception.

"Are you family?"

"No I-"

"I'm sorry, only family are currently permitted to enter."

She stopped herself from growling at the woman.

"His Uncle - Luke Danes – rang me. Well actually, his employee rang me, but he told them to contact me so that's just as good as picking up the phone himself and dialling me number –"

"Ma'am." The receptionist interrupted, "He's probably with the patient, and as I said – it's only family permitted."

"Now look here lady –"

"Lorelai?"

She pushed herself away from reception and towards Luke. He hair was ragged, his hat gone from his head and probably misplaced by this point. She hugged him as soon as he was close.

"What happened Luke? Lane didn't give me anything, just to meet you here."

"He tried again."

She stumbled back, her hands falling from around her neck, down his arms and away.

"Jess tried to kill himself again."


	6. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

_Summary: Luke looks over his financial statements and comes to the conclusion that he'll have to dip into his savings in order to pay for good therapy for Jess. Dean comes into the diner and has a shock at Jess' appearance – a small spat ensues. Jess, still angry over the fight, see's Luke's finances and concludes he is sacrificing too much for Jess. Jess has some acute form of panic attack which leads to him spotting Luke's razors and cutting himself too deep. Luke discovers in enough time to save Jess from another unfortunate attempt at his life and get him to the hospital._

"Depression is individual." The therapist said, her voice was confident and casual as she spoke to the man and uncle who both had tremors running through their bodies and guilt coursing through their veins. "No one person has the same trigger, nor the same reasons for being depressed. It's a chemical imbalance, or an experience that can sort of shift something in the head."

"So I'm fucked up."

Her laugh was whimsical and light – like wind chimes through a soft breeze. Jess hated it. He scowled at the woman and gripped his palms tighter over his bandaged wrist.

"Not at all. Most adults will experience depression at some point in their lifetimes."

"So we're all fucked up." Luke said in the same monotone as Jess.

The woman pursed her lips and looked from Uncle to Nephew – the resemblance suddenly very obvious.

"If you would allow me to continue."

Luke huffed, but settled back in the chair next to Jess' hospital bed, the picture of nonchalance.

"Jess could have been seen as improving – he himself could have thought he was getting better, but that might have just been due to the circumstance. People who are used to avoiding vulnerability will usually act stronger, and therefore feel stronger when they have company – it becomes dangerous once they're left alone. Or someone who is used to having and maintaining attention will usually make their illness known. That is why we have sessions to get to the root of the personality and experiences that have shaped us, and express any _thoughts_ and attempt to determine a cause and help us on the journey to a cure."

"Can't you just give me the drugs and I can walk out of here _without_ the 'feelings' aspect of this so called 'journey'?" Jess grumbled, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Unfortunately not Jess." She was obviously losing her patience with the teenager, which simply seemed to entertain Luke. "Your suicidal _thoughts_ makes the drugs quite dangerous for the first few weeks or months – you'll need the sessions to monitor you. And," She gathered her belongings, ready to leave as soon as she was finished, "Given your _erratic_ behaviour, it's evident that your depression will follow the same strand."

"You're saying you think his illness is going to go all 'rebel without a cause'."

She pursed her lips in a curt grin and nodded before sauntering out of the room.

"Well," Luke said to himself, "That's just swell."

"I don't want her digging through my head." Jess leant further back into the pillows, reaching for the remote to change the channel on the tiny television to something less Jerry Springer and more David Attenborough. "She hates me already – I'll be leaving with a complex."

Luke lifted an eyebrow at him.

"I'll be leaving with _more_ of a complex." He corrected.

His uncle nodded at the change and Jess huffed out a breath in frustration. "And what's with everyone calling it my _journey._ I'm not going on a fucking cruise – this is the opposite of a holiday. Sounds like they expect me to go frolicking with Bilbo Baggins."

"Firstly Jess, watch the language."

"You just said fu-"

"And secondly," he interrupted, his finger pointed and leaning closer to the boy, "You would never frolic in your life."

"Damn straight."

Luke cast him a dirty look and turned to the television screen to try and appease some of the unspoken tension in the room.

"I'm going to have to tell your mother."

"Oh Luke. No –"

"I am Jess. She can't be left in the dark about this. They're at a Renaissance a few states over, I'm going to go and get them – bring them back here."

"Neither my mother nor T.J. will be of any help in this – why do they have to know anything?"

"Because! What if you had succeeded this time?"

Both men stopped. They both imagined the scenario and Jess hung his head in shame.

"What if you had died Jess. How would I explain to your mother that I knew you were depressed – that I knew something was wrong and I didn't tell her? How would I explain to her that I had tried my best? Why would she believe me?"

Jess didn't answer. He continued to play with the bandage over his wrist, his hands looking small on top of the duvet.

They had given him a nutritional drip to provide him with the energy and protein he needed. They told him they were concerned about his weight.

They were actually concerned about a lot of things:

His weight.

His mental health.

His initial reaction to the blood transfusion.

His lack of appetite.

And he was pretty sure that therapist was pretty concerned about his attitude – but what else was new?

"I'll leave when you're released, after I ring them." Luke settled down, falling back onto the chair and once again avoiding eye-contact. "But you shouldn't be alone right now-"

"I don't need a babysitter."

"Recent events suggest otherwise Jess."

Jess once again shut up.

"Lorelai offered to help-"

"Jesus. No Luke. Are you kidding?"

At Luke's blank gaze, Jess threw his body back into the pillows and grumbled, loudly. "She hate's me, man."

"Lorelai doesn't hate you –"

"Now I _know_ you're kidding this time. Have you ever witnessed a civil conversation between the two of us?"

"Who else would you like me to ask Jess? Taylor? Because I'm pretty sure I'd be doing him favours for the rest of my life."

Jess growled, pulling the disgusting hospital food towards him just so that he had something to distract himself with.

"The doctor said you can be discharged tomorrow morning, after they're sure you've been pumped with enough vitamins and crap."

"I'm sure that's verbatim."

Luke rolled his eyes. "I'll need to sort some things out at the diner with Caesar, and then I'll head off in the evening to pick up Liz and T.J. so you're going to have to get over your feud with Lorelai pretty soon buddy."

"It's not a feud."

"Really? Because from where I'm standing it looks pretty much like a feud."

"Would you stop talking now Uncle Luke?" Jess sneered, trying to look intimidating but failing miserably with his backless gown and a sheet tucked in around him so tight he probably couldn't even move if he tried.

Luke listened to Jess, sitting back smugly, his arms folded over his chest as he tried to once again watch the tele. They both looked on at the awful hallmark movie for a while before Jess eventually sighed, his eyes darting over to his uncle and his fingers pulling at each other with his nervous energy.

"When are you going to tell her?" He asked quietly.

"Liz? I don't really know what to tell her."

"Just tell her we're fixing it."

"Are we?" Luke asked, "Fixing it, I mean."

Jess nodded, glaring down at the bandage around his wrist – every time he jostled it the stiches pulled on his skin, a constant reminder of his stupidity.

"I'm tired of living like this." He admitted. "And now that killing myself if off the table, I think I'll just have to deal with option B."

"Please don't joke about it Jess."

"What else am I going to do, Luke? It's either joke about it or let myself wallow in it – and I'm not really up for the whole crying and ice-cream scenario to be completely honest with you."

Luke didn't reply. He nodded his head and chose to remain silent as he turned back to the television and didn't let Jess gauge his reaction.

Jess looked at his profile for a long time. Luke's jaw was stiff, clenching and unclenching as he tried to control the watering that was gathering in the corner of his eyes. Jess wanted to look away, but it was like some sick need of his to watch as one of the tears broke from his uncle's eyelashes and roll down his face. Luke didn't acknowledge it. He let it tickle down his cheek and get lost in his stubble.

That one tear hit Jess harder than seeing his life bleed out of him. That one tear felt like he had been hit so hard in the stomach that the air had physically rushed out of him at the image that he knew would be burned into his memory.

"I'm really going to try Luke."

Luke reached out blindly for Jess's leg, tapping it once in acknowledgement "I know that Jess," He didn't turn to look at him, but he did wipe a hand down his face, pulling down his cheeks and rubbing over his stubble – ridding the evidence of his tears.

"I mean it," Jess continued, "I'm going to really try."

Luke nodded.

"I can't just leave you alone to deal with Liz now can I? That'd just be cruel."

Luke huffed out a laugh at Jess' attempt at humour, "I appreciate it Jess."

The next morning, after a sleepless night at the hospital, a ridiculously personal questionnaire on his mental state, and appointment to go and see a counsellor who definitely _wasn't_ the one interrogating him the previous day and a prescription for some of the milder anti-depressants, Jess and Luke were back in Stars Hollow.

Jess opened his own door to get out of the truck, despite being pretty sure that Luke was determined to run around and make sure Jess didn't do anything by himself. He shut it behind him with a slam, shouldering the small duffel that Luke had brought him of clean, blood free, discharge clothes. He pulled his sleeves down over the bandage, although it did nothing to halt the stares as the two men walked towards the diner.

"Ah Great," Jess groaned, rolling his head dramatically towards his uncle as he shuffled awkwardly beside him, "It's seems the whole town was craving some of your _famous burgers._ Absolute coincidence."

"They're concerned."

He scoffed, "They're really not." He pushed past Luke, bumping into his shoulder, and steadily made his way to the diner as though nothing were wrong. The bell rang cheerfully and Jess froze momentarily – faltering in his step. Everyone at stopped, turned silent, and _looked_ at him when he walked in. All eyes went from his face, and then searching down until they got a glimpse of the bandage peeking out from under his sleeve.

He was tempted to shout some kind of quip, something like _take a picture, it'd last longer._ He decided against it. Instead he just sort of growled and pushed his way through the crowd and up the stairs.

He briefly heard Luke shout, "If you're not ordering anything, get the hell out of my diner."

He froze when he entered. He had forgotten about the blood. He threw his bag into the apartment and turned right back around and back down the stairs.

"I'm not dealing with that." He said, pointing upstairs as he passed Luke, "I'm far from ready to deal with that."

"Yep," Luke nodded, awkwardly ringing his hands together and glancing upstairs as he quickly came up with a plan to quickly and effectively get rid of the stains that he had only just realised would still be present – he had also been avoiding sleeping at the diner since Jess' _accident._ Lorelai was happy to accommodate. "Yeah, I'll uh, get right on that. Where are you going?"

"I don't know, around town – just, I can't –"

"I get it – don't stay out too long."

"Got it."

Jess headed in a random direction – but he also knew exactly where his feet were taking him. He kept his head down, walking towards the bridge that seemed to be his only haven at that moment.

"Jess!"

He jumped, like actually physically jumped, at the unexpected shout of his name, and he scowled at himself instantly at his reaction. Andrew was running up to him from across the centre – he was looking at him warily, cautiously, as though he were approaching some frightened deer.

"Jess, hi – glad I caught you."

Jess nodded at the man, turning so his faced him for fully.

"I was wondering if you'd have the time today to fix the till – I'm going crazy with it let me tell you."

"Oh!" Jess was surprised, obviously, that the first townsfolk to approach him after his stint at the hospital hasn't instantly asked for the gossip. "Uh, sure. Sure I can help out – just let me get the tools from Luke."

"Thanks Jess – I've been _dying_ in there with that thing."

Jess did notice the way Andrew cringed at the use of his own words, and it did tell Jess immediately that Andrew was aware _why_ Jess had been absent for the past few days. But he found himself not caring – this was his Holden Caulfield moment and he wasn't about to waste the selfless act on something as pathetic as a potential panic attack.

He turned back the way he came, lingering in the doorway of the diner as he asked Luke to fetch the toolbox with a brief and vague explanation. He didn't want to go in any further, despite knowing that all evidence of his own moments of weakness were strictly confined to the apartment upstairs – he didn't want to risk it.

Jess got the toolbox, Luke muttering something about "Bert" as he handed it over, and Jess made his way swiftly over to Andrews, breathing a sigh as the door of the bookshop shut behind him and the stares had stopped following him. The man smiled at him as the bell rang, signalling his entrance. Jess attempted to smile back but he was pretty sure it came out more of a grimace than anything else – he sheepishly made his way over and set up shop behind the counter with Andrew.

He was arm deep into the machinery a better half of an hour later. Customers were coming in and out, each startling at the discovery of Jess also behind the counter – fiddling with the till in a way that didn't involve stealing the contents. Jess was hardly paying attention, but he couldn't help but listen to some of the conversations and questions that seemed to filter through the shop.

"There's not really many authors like Vonnegurt, Jackson."

"I know, which is why it's so frustrating that I like his stuff so much – once I've read all he has to offer – what am I meant to do then?"

"Have you tried Burroughs?" Jess asked, distracted, not really speaking to the patron, more speaking into the mechanics of the older-than-expected till, but conversing nonetheless.

"William Burroughs?" Andrew asked, leaning against the counter, amused at Jess' contribution.

"The very one." Jess replied.

"He's not really Vonnegurt stylistic, Jess."

"Not necessarily." He defended jumping out of the till finally, and with a slight jolt realising he was actually talking to someone, he quickly regained his composure and said, "Have you read the Cities of the Red Night trilogy? It's all non-linear and plays with time and parallels – very much like Slaughterhouse Five.

Andrew hummed, "He has a point actually, Jackson." He turned back to his customer, and Jess soon realised he was doing one better than Holden Caulfield and _actually contributing._

"If you liked the timey-wimey aspect of Vonnegurt give Burroughs a try. The books should be on the back shelf."

Jackson nodded, an eager smile on his face as he made his way quickly to the back of the store before he could forget the name.

Jess turned back to the till.

"I never would have thought of Burroughs."

"Well," Jess said, clearing his throat, "I read a lot. And I like to make notes – compare to other authors or quote other books. I quoted Vonnegurt's death description in Burroughs and the Panama liberation in Slaughterhouse –"

"You make notes?"

"I write in the margins."

Andrew seemed very interested by this and hummed to himself before he seemed to come to a decision, "If you ever need any extra cash, Jess, I'd be happy to have you help out around here. Can never have too many literati's in a bookshop."

 _Yeah,_ Jess thought to himself, _I'm definitely outdoing Holden Caulfield._

There was a lull in the day. Everyone who was curious, _or nosy,_ left soon after Jess did – having their fill of their drama for the day. There was a club soda and cold-water solution dealing with the blood stains and anything that couldn't be cleaned, or fixed, was promptly thrown away.

Now, as he sat in the empty diner, staring at the phone, he knew he only had one more thing left to do.

He finally groaned, pushing himself from the counter and propelling himself towards the phone before he could chicken out again.

"Hello?"

"Liz – Hi."


	7. The Ice Storm

Jess was delivered to Lorelai's place later that evening with a new part time job and another few books to add to his growing, permanent collection in Stars Hollow. Luke had thrown a few of Jess' clothes in a duffel so the boy wouldn't have to go upstairs to the apartment where there would still be some cleaning that would have to be done. He left Jess in the living room – where there were blankets and pillows laying carefully on the sofa for his use, and then dragged Lorelai off to the kitchen so he could discuss the nightmare that was his conversation with Liz.

"She was refusing to believe it." He whispered angrily. "Kept telling me I was lying, that I was an idiot. That I obviously was overreacting because _her boy_ was doing a lot better when she had last spoke to him, and he was happy when she last spoke to him." He growled. His voice grumbled, and his hands in fists as though he were desperately trying to keep himself from shouting, "'Trust me, I'm his mother' – well Liz, he has just tried to off-himself for the second time in less than a month, maybe _you_ should trust _me_ with this boy's wellbeing for once in your life –"

"Luke," Lorelai soothed the man, rubbing on his arms to try and ease the tension, "You did the right thing. You had to tell her."

"I know. I know. I'm going to go up there and try and convince her to actually pull herself away from this perfect bubble she has created for herself."

"Why are you even picking her up?" Lorelai, the more she heard of the woman, liked her less and less, "It's evident she doesn't believe you. Why should you even bother?"

"Because as much as I wish it weren't the case – she's his mother. And if something happens to that kid, she deserves to be around to make sure she did everything that she could do help."

She understood, of course she did – she couldn't imagine the guilt she would be feeling if something had happened to Rory and she could've been around to help, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Jess set his bag down next to his temporary bed. He stifled through it and placed the books he had been religiously reading to tire himself out onto the coffee table next to the sofa. Next to them he placed the small bag of medicine that would become his life for however long it takes. In there, a packet of bandages that he would have to change later and a bottle of antiseptic fluid to clean out his wound.

That was going to suck.

Luke pushed through into the living room as Jess was reading through his detailed instructions left to him by both the doctor and counsellor.

"Jess I'm sorry about this."

Jess waved off the man, barely looking up from the instructions.

"I'm not sure how long I'll be gone – your mother is being difficult."

"What else is new?" Jess grumbled, turning over the paper to continue reading.

"Right." Luke nodded, "Well," he hesitated, obviously wanted to say something more – probably heartfelt – but Jess was trying to avoid that kind of _stuff_ for the time being.

"Safe trip Luke."

His uncle nodded, and left the living room with Lorelai following close behind – probably so they could say the appropriate goodbyes.

Jess scoffed at their 'puppy-love' and immediately began ripping into the packages he had laid out, ready to get pain that would come with keeping his wound clean out of the way as quickly as possible.

He was fumbling with his gauze when Lorelai came back in – unable to get a good enough grip on it to unwind the tape. She made a noise of protest and came stumbling over to Jess to help him with his bandages. He was tempted to pull away but realised pretty quickly that it would go a lot smoother if he had some help.

He relented to the woman, letting her carefully pull at where the bandage was stuck, cursing at a particularly tight point that wasn't agreeing with her. He was convinced that when she finally got the thing lose she would let out an obnoxious cheer and burn the gauze for all the trouble it gave her – it was something he could easily expect from her.

Any yet, when the gauze unveiled his wrist she just seemed to freeze – staring at the wound unblinking for a good few seconds.

Jess wasn't sure what to do, so he just watched her, angled so that he could easily pull his arm away if he felt like she might overstep her boundaries.

She shook herself out of it, fumbling for the sterilising solution and forgetting to warn Jess before she dabbed it onto his wound. He hissed – she flinched – and he refused to make eye contact with her.

"I'm sorry Jess,"

He felt like she was apologising for things far beyond the pain he was feeling in that instance – but he was in no mood to entertain her. "My arm is still there – it's fine."

She nodded, playing along with him for now. She picked up the fresh bandages and gauze from where he had placed them and began to re-wrap his injury – making sure to ask how tight it was in the process.

When she had finished, she gently stroked the bandage up the wrist in what Jess assumed was supposed to be comforting. He froze with the tenderness and pulled his arms away from her grip. She seemed to startle, standing up from her perch on the coffee table and collecting the soiled bandages to throw away. "I am sorry, Jess."

"What for?"

"I'm sorry for how I treat you before I guess. We've never been on the best of terms, but I want you to know that if you need anybody to talk to whenever it's needed I'll be about to make sure that –"

"Let me interrupt you right there," Jess pitched forward putting himself in Lorelai's personal bubble. He was angry, and tried to stop his voice from shaking with emotion. "You don't suddenly get to like me because you think I am broken. I don't want your pity."

"That's not what is going on here Jess."

"Then what is? I don't understand how I could go from the no-good pariah to suddenly having your _motherly_ attention. I don't want it and you don't want to give it."

"Okay." She said firmly, stopping him in his hateful speech, "I get it, Jess. I was a jerk. I treated you harshly with only one conversation to back up my criticisms, but you don't get to act all high and mighty either."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean Jess – you don't get to pretend that it was all one sided."

"You hated me Lorelai – I just retaliated."

"Jess," Lorelai groaned, "You treated my daughter awfully. You stole from her. You didn't take her to prom because you ran off without even saying goodbye - again. You run back tell her you love her then run off _again_. You can't expect me to like you when you manipulate her with your yo-yo emotions."

"I'm not even going to begin to try and explain this to you, but I will only tell you one thing – I _never_ meant to hurt Rory."

Lorelai scoffed at his pathetic explanation.

"If you really think, that after everything, I wanted to cause any harm to your daughter – then honestly Lorelai you don't know the first thing about me, and you should stop judging me from this hazy-reminiscent version of someone from your past."

She stuttered, "What?"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? You didn't like me because I remind you of someone you'd rather forget. Let me make this clear, just because you have this image of me in your head – it does not mean I am that person. I would appreciate it if everyone in this town stopped treating me like some kind of disease." He emphasized his point by pushing past Lorelai, hitting her shoulder on his quick escape and stumbling along with her by the strength of it.

She attempted to scramble after him, shocked by his words and spluttering excuses. "Where are you going? Luke said I shouldn't keep you out of my sight."

"Jesus Christ." He almost shouted – his voice reaching a pitch that made his voice crack from the emotion, the desperation to leave from where he was feeling increasingly trapped. "Will you let me storm out like a normal teenager, please? I'll be in town, I have my phone and if I kill myself then I'll make sure to leave you a parting text." He growled. All sarcasm and irony lost in the outright danger of his words, the fact that Lorelai believed that to be a promise, and Jess was certain of it's absurdity.

Seeing her face. Her lips quivering with held back tears and her blue eyes wide and watering. Jess sank. His shoulders dropped with his head and he groaned, pushing one hand through his hair and the other digging deep into his pocket. "I need some air Lorelai." He said eventually, "I'll be by the bridge – I will be back in an hour tops – just let me get out of here. _Please."_

She hesitated for a small second before she reluctantly nodded.

He started out the door, paused once to look over his shoulder at the guarded woman, before determinedly marching from the premises.

He consciously made noise when he returned to the house. He was aware of the light in Lorelai's room still being on despite the late hour, and the fact that she had more than likely waited for his return before she could actually fall asleep.

He tried not to feel guilty for staying out too long, but found the pebble in his stomach present all the same. He flopped himself back onto the sofa, greeting the familiar comfort like an old friend. Jess used to marvel at the way the sofa had the ability to suck you into its cushions and lure you to stay – when he was dating Rory he used to grumble at being forced to move after a recluse evening in watching films.

He readjusted the pillows Lorelai had given him, hitting them into submission of comfort before he flopped back onto them and buried himself nose deep in the blanket – forgoing the change of clothes and opting instead to sleep in his jeans.

Her heard the small movement of footsteps from upstairs – Lorelai walking to turn off her light and back to the bed to finally settle in to sleep. He listened to the subsequent quiet, the distinct lack of the noise he was used to in New York. It seemed louder somehow – more prominent in his mind. Like it was screaming at him, forcing his mind awake.

His mother was coming home to have a happy illusion of her son shattered before her, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to deal with that reveal just yet.

Jess had always put on a front for her. He pretended he was mature enough to be left by himself was he was younger – cooking for himself, cleaning after himself. Sometimes she'd be gone trying to work for the roof over their heads. Sometimes she'd be gone for her own gratuitous pleasure. But Jess still had to pretend that he could fend for himself, when the grip of fear always had him the moment she left the room.

He had to pretend he was strong enough to deal with the multitude of men that she paraded through their apartment and invited into their lives, offering up their feelings, with just the smallest act of smiling at her over a fifth bottle of beer. He had to pretend that every time one of them left it didn't hurt him.

He had to pretend he wasn't hurt when she told him that he was nothing more than a stranger to her before shipping him off to live with a stranger in an even stranger town.

She had this impression of him. And he knew the moment that she saw how broken he was – the foundations would collapse under this perfect life she had imagined – and he wasn't sure he was ready for another mess to be placed on his hands.

With the guilty pebble in his gut quickly evolving to a boulder, Jess turned over to face the back of the sofa and shut his eyes as tightly as he could and willed sleep upon himself.

The next morning he pretended that it hadn't taken him four hours to finally give in to his subconscious.

Lorelai winced at every step as she walked down the stairs, making sure to avoid the creaks she had become accustomed to over the years. She gripped onto the banister like a lifeline, and when Jess finally came into view she didn't keep her eyes off him – looking for any sign that she might have woken him in her careful journey from her bed to coffee.

There was barely a shiver from the boy, the light sound of a snore drowned out by the duvet covering the entirety of his head.

She felt like she could breathe when she finally made it to the ground floor. She practically skipped her way to the kitchen, only to stumble and curse when the landline rang out incessantly, signalling a person calling at the ridiculous time.

She dove for the phone, fumbling with the receiver for a few agonising seconds before she finally managed to accept the call and whisper a quick and fierce, "Hello," down the other end.

A snore from Jess made her whole body deflate and a breath to escape from her just as suddenly.

"Mom, Hi! So guess what? I have some classes cancelled! That means that Paris had made me make the most of my spare time and I've managed to complete most of my assignments for the next two weeks. So you know what that means? That means I can come home this weekend – for like an extended weekend. Isn't that great? I mean, I haven't really had the chance to see you recently, and I know things have been weird between us since Dean but I just want us to get back to normal so I thought that we could have a weekend like we used to and-"

"Rory –" She attempted to cut off her daughter, interrupt the inherited ramblings and prevent the girl from imagining this perfect trip home.

"-We can watch all of the films that you had managed to gather the last time, and now that you and Luke are together maybe we can convince him to deliver all of the food he desperately tries to stop us to eat and-"

"Rory!"

The girl stopped talking on the other side of the phone and asked a quick "What?" her breath deep after her constant talking.

"You can't come back this weekend." Lorelai said simply, wincing down the phone.

"What? Why?"

She glanced at the sofa, where the reason for this refusal lay, his face buried into the back of the chair and the duvet drowning him under its protection. Only the small tufts of his black hair poked out from the comforter. She slowly walked into Rory's room, shutting to door behind her for some privacy, and to prevent from waking the boy up.

"Now this is going to be confusing, and I probably won't be able to answer all of the questions you have so I need you to trust me on this and I'll explain when I can –"

"Mom." Rory interrupted, becoming impatient.

"Jess is here."

"Jess? As in Mariano?"

"The very same."

"He's in Stars Hollow? Why? – Well it doesn't matter, it's not like I'll bump into him, and even if we did I shouldn't be the one to feel awkward – he should."

"No." Lorelai said simply. "No Stars Hollow. Here, as in home here, as in Crap Shack."

"What? Is he popping by to see Luke – I didn't think Luke was at ours that often."

"No," She said again, grimacing as she sat down on Rory's bed and attempted to explain more clearly. "As in, Jess is staying here in the Crap Shack for a while. Luke is out of town collecting Liz and TJ from the Renaissance thing and Jess is staying with me while Luke is away."

"He's staying with you?"

"Yes."

"In our home?"

"Yup."

"While Luke isn't even there?"

"You've got it kiddo."

"Uh. Why?"

"That's probably one of the things that is difficult to explain."

"But – why can't he just stay above the diner? You do realise he's a big boy now – he can look after himself."

"Rory-"

"And why are you having to house him? I thought you hated the guy?"

"I don't hate him," She said slowly, cringing at how weak her argument sounded.

Rory scoffed, and Lorelai knew that it sounded pathetic to her as well.

"I don't!" She tried again.

"You've never trusted him, mom. Why is he staying there?"

"Because he can't be left alone right now." Lorelai said quickly, unable to stop herself from saying something. She closed her eyes at her own stupidity. She knew it wasn't necessarily a secret, but Lorelai wasn't sure how Jess would react to her telling Rory all of his dark thoughts.

"Can't be left alone? What does that mean? Like Luke can't trust him alone in the diner – he's not going to go around stealing everything. He may have been a hooligan as you called him, but he never did anything malicious-"

"Just tell her."

Lorelai jumped away from the phone. Standing in the doorway, hair mussed, and clothes wrinkled, Jess stood. He clung onto the frame of the door, resisting the urge to look around at the books that he knew he'd be tempted to pinch and deface, and stared right into Lorelai's questioning and nervous eyes.

She covered the speaker to prevent Rory from overhearing – although based on the sudden quiet coming from her end it was clear she'd already heard who had entered.

"Jess-" Lorelai started, "Are you sure? I don't have to say anything."

"It's not like it's a secret," the boy rolled his eyes, leaning to one side so he could rest against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest. "Everyone in this town already seems to know – if anything I'm surprised she hasn't already heard from one of the gossips."

"But Jess –"

"I'd prefer it if Rory didn't think of me as delinquent incapable of being trusted." He started, moving out of the way of the door so that he could shut it behind him and avoid overhearing Lorelai explain his troubles, "And don't let me prevent your mother-daughter session," He pleaded, although his roll of his eyes and cool demeanour somewhat dampened the kind gesture, "I've told Andrew that I could work with him this weekend anyway – I'll be out of your hair _and supervised."_ He shut the door then and let Lorelai slowly bring the receiver back to her face.

"You heard that?" She asked.

"Doesn't explain anything." Rory pressed.

Lorelai took a deep breath before starting, "I'm not sure how much I really know, but I'll tell you what I do."

"Just need some clarity mom."

"Jess came back to Stars Hollow three weeks ago," she started, "Well – more me and Luke brought him back."

"You and Luke – why?"

"Luke got a frightening phone call from him. Essentially – and this is the summarised version, Luke got a phone-call from Jess because Jess was moments away from killing himself and he was scared."

The line was silent. Lorelai would have thought that Rory had been cut off if it weren't for the shaky intake of breath on the other side of the line.

"Kill himself?"

Lorelai nodded, but didn't bother to vocalise.

"But – why?"

"That's a long story that not even I fully comprehend but essentially Jess if suffering from quite extreme depression at the moment and we're struggling to shake him out of it."

"What have the doctors said?"

"Uhm, they've given him some anti-depressants I think. But he need to go to counselling because apparently it could get worse before it gets better."

"Worse than killing himself?"

"No, worse than attempting to kill himself."

Lorelai let the implications of that settle in. She heard Rory take a deep, shuddering breath in before the younger girl started talking again.

"So he's saying with you because –"

"Because he became close to doing it again on Wednesday night and honestly, I think he's a bit scared of himself at the moment."

"Wow." Rory breathed out, "That's…"

"Dark?"

"Mm," Rory agreed, "Something like that."

Both Gilmores were quiet on the line for a few moments. Rory processing, and Lorelai allowing her daughter to do so.

"And he's living with you?"

"I know this is weird Rory,"

"No, I get it. Should I still come back?"

"Yeah – he said it's fine. He said something about Andrew offering him some part time work."

"At the book store?"

Lorelai hummed.

"Well, that should help."

Lorelai was waiting for more of a reaction from her daughter, and when all she got back from her was silence she asked simply, "What are you thinking hun?"

Rory shuddered in a breath, "Firstly I was thinking how it was the last thing I expected – I mean, it's _Jess."_

"And now?"

"I now, I suppose, I kind of should have expected it?"

Lorelai didn't even get the chance to ask why her daughter thought so.

"His past with his mother isn't great – or I assume so considering he's so secretive about it. And he's smart, and creative – it's no surprise when you look at these genius' in the past who go down much the same root. And it's not like he's ever been very good and discussing his feelings so I guess actually –"

"Hun." Lorelai interrupts, "I don't anyone expected this."

Rory breathed hard and fast down the phone.

Her mother just continued, "I don't think anyone can ever predict this."

"Well I should have."

"Babe-"

"No. I – I guess I'll see you later. I just, yeah – I'll see you later."

The subsequent dial tone and echoing silence through the house only served to make her nervous.


	8. Madame Bovary

Jess left the Gilmore house early on the day of Rory's arrival – ready to be out of the way of the elder Gilmore for the day allowing her time to prepare for the prodigal child's return and should Rory arrive early - let them catch up (code for: discuss his pathetic slump without him being close to over-hear).

The sun had barely made an impact on the world by the time he had left – peaking over the heights of trees and barely making an impression on the cool temperature of the dewy morning. He was munching on the pop-tart that Lorelai had put out for him the previous evening (she had begun counting the wrappers so she could be reassured he ate something), and had the protein infused smoothie clutched tightly in his hand for consumption through the day. He had told Caesar he'd help with the early-morning deliveries that day, and first shift before he could spend the remainder of the day with Andrew.

It wasn't difficult for him to be awake at that time in the morning – if anything, he had a lot more trouble falling asleep than being awake. He managed to catch a few hours that night before settling into his common pastime of staring up at the ceiling and twiddling his thumbs – literally. He had stopped trying to get his mind to shut up a while ago, so instead he used it to map up some kind of plan for the characters he had made a begrudged fondness for.

He struggled to admit to himself that he had, in fact, come up with some semblance of a story – and yet as he started to edit the woven sentences together he felt the tickle of pride that he wasn't used to.

"Morning," He muttered as he approached the diner – Caesar was already pulling crates from the van that had pulled up outside the establishment.

Caesar nodded at him in greeting, grumbling a response – never one for mornings, and instructed him to start carrying the boxes into the diner so they could sort through the orders and check off their stock.

It was methodical and boring work.

Caesar flicked on some music at some point during their stock count and was warbling out lyrics as though Jess wasn't even there.

"Want to join the band, Caesar? We could use your soulful voice."

"Ah, ever the flatterer, Lane."

Jess hadn't even heard the bell above the door – he was too wrapped up in the fictitious world he had created for himself. He looked up at the girl, nodding in her direction and earning one in return.

"You here to help out?" Caesar placed a box in front of her regardless of her answer and gestured for her to start counting.

"Luke's away." Lane explained, "And I know how you like to complain Caesar."

"Shut up and count, Lane."

Lane laughed, and Jess looked on at the companionship between the two with a smile on his face. The familiarity and banter between the two felt easy and relaxed. It was nice to observe – he'd forgotten how easy it was for some people to make casual connections.

Caesar went back to singing, Jess went back to putting away the stock, and Lane got started on counting.

"So, Jess." Lane began, glancing at Caesar to assure he wouldn't contribute to the conversation.

"So, Lane."

"I heard Rory is coming back for the weekend."

"That's what I gather - yes."

"Would it be alright if we don't mention my whole…" she waved her hand in some form of explanation, "blowing up at you thing?"

Jess lifted an eyebrow – it wasn't how he expected the conversation to go.

"Only, Rory had been off recently and I'm not sure she'd appreciate my shouting at her ex and making her seem like a heartless cow – or vulnerable -or…"

"She's been _off_ recently?"

Her eyes went wide behind her glasses and she stuttered exaggeratedly, "I shouldn't have said that. I definitely shouldn't have said that. She's not off – of course she's not. She's perfect, ideal. Why would you think she was acting weird because I definitely don't –"

"Chill out Lane."

She abruptly stopped talking.

Jess didn't reassure her, but he did abruptly change the topic, "How's the music collection going?"

She was surprised, that much was evident, but she didn't dwell on it. She took his change of topic in stride and began to enthusiastically talk about the collection she had started up in the new apartment – making sure to have something for every mood. Jess chimed in with his opinion when he had the chance, gaining a probably sadistic sense of glee at her shock at his every input. He enjoyed battling with her view and outright chortled when she suggested he had purely punk and grunge tastes – he started to hum Bowie under his breath to throw off her estimation after that.

They managed to put away all the stock and get the records in order before the first customers began to arrive and order their breakfasts. Jess stayed long enough to help with the morning rush – helping Caesar cook in the back and man the counter while Lane worked on waitressing. His was the kind of work that kept the mind occupied and Jess could honestly be thankful for the distraction.

When there was a lull – Jess took his leave. He meandered to the book store with a sudden nervous energy that he seldom experienced in his life. He started bouncing around the idea that Andrew wasn't serious in his offer, that he was pitying Jess, that he honestly wouldn't be of any help to him. Jess had all but convinced himself to turn back around and skulk towards the diner when Andrew caught sight of him from inside the shop and waved him in desperately.

"Jess!" he exclaimed when the boy entered sheepishly, "Just the person I need."

Jess raised his eyebrows at the man, walking towards him and the customer with his hands in his pockets and just as much of an incredulous expression as he was sure was on the patron's face.

"Patricia here thinks that The Great Gatsby is the 'most romantic book there is'."

Jess audibly groaned, pulling a hand to his face to rub over his eyes. Andrew laughed at his reaction and gave him a pat on the back as he went by.

"Maybe you'd like to recommend her some actually _decent_ portrayals of a relationship."

Jess spent twenty minutes arguing with the customer which only ended when he forced Madame Bovary in her hand with the slight inclination that she might learn something about romanticising relationships and then just to make sure that not all hope was lost, he also slipped her a second hand copy of Pride and Prejudice that she claimed to have read but he implored for her to read again.

With her books paid for, Jess turned back to Andrew and found him looking back at him with a smile on his face and the smallest hint of a nod. He questioned the man, but all he got in return was a slight huff of a laugh and Andrew tilted his head towards the back of the store.

"Do some inventory for me this afternoon, Jess. We're out of stock of some of the most popular and vastly overstocked with some of the Greats – maybe you could do some re-jiggling there."

Jess didn't need another word from the man before he stomped off to work muttering about the awfully written tastes of the modern era, ignoring the laughter from his employer that followed his way.

He found himself relaxing into his new role at the shop. Andrew would call him over to help with any recommendations, and he got to help out with the ordering of new stock based on his own tastes and readings - "You're more likely to sell books if you're passionate about them."

His own personal form of escapism and he was surrounded by it for hours – it was like a clean breath in his otherwise polluted world and it kept an honest smile on his face through the day.

It was nearing the end of the working day when Jess heard the bell over the door and the unmistaken sound of his uncle in the front of the shop. Jess froze behind the bookcase he was filling, letting himself take a few deep breaths before he showed himself – If Luke was back, then meant his mother was.

He emerged, pulling on his sleeve and dipping his head down as he approached. "Where's Liz?"

"Come with me, Jess."

Luke beckoned his nephew, conscious of the gossips in town lingering around their purchases.

Jess said a small goodbye over his shoulder to Andrew and followed his uncle from the shop. Luke was walking ahead of him in a storm. Jess struggled to catch up, running and skipping forward until he was in step with the man, and almost panting at the effort.

"This is a good sign."

Luke huffed, "She's ridiculous,"

"That's one way to describe my mother, yes."

"I just -" Luke stopped abruptly and Jess stumbled to a halt a few paces ahead of him.

"God! I can't believe her sometimes – she may be my sister but... Jesus."

"Luke," Jess reassured, "Did you forget who you're speaking to?"

"Right. Yeah. Sorry."

They were heading to the Gilmore residence and Jess wasn't sure if that made him that much more uncomfortable or not. Yet, when they walked up the steps to the warm place, and Jess saw a glimpse of Liz through the window – he couldn't help but think how out of place she looked in the homely atmosphere.

"Jess!" Liz barrelled past Luke and gripped onto her son with a painful grip of a hug. He didn't hug back. His hands held into fists at his side and he winced at her crooked voice in his ear.

"Can you believe some of the things Luke has been claiming. He tells us that your depressed, then he comes all the way to come and collect me and T.J when we were doing so well at the Renaissance – we sold out of the emerald batch and we were just signing on for more when Luke ruins any chance we might have had to -"

"Liz! For god sake, just look at the boy." Luke shouted over his sister.

She pulled back, gripping onto his small arms and appraised his face.

"What do you mean, he looks fine."

"He looks fine? Are you serious?"

"Liz -" Jess attempted to speak up, tried to put a stop to the fight that was evidently brewing, "Liz, he's not lying."

"Yeah, he looks fine Luke."

Jess was ignored, obviously.

"He might have lost some weight but that's nothing to get into a huff about. There were times when we wouldn't have food for a bit but we made it out okay."

"Liz-"

"Jesus Liz. I'm not exaggerating – we were at the hospital this week because Jess tried to kill himself -"

"Luke!" The boy finally shouted.

Luke turned to the boy and immediately looked away from his hard gaze. He'd gone too far – and from the way Jess was looking at him, glassy eyes which seemed to glare even in the soft light of the room – Luke felt ashamed.

Jess, however, felt sick. His stomach was churning, he could feel it bubbling, pulling at his insides and retching through him. He looked at his mother, who was watching him with such hope that he didn't want to reveal the truth – and yet he ripped up his sleeves and showed her the bandage.

When the bandage didn't give enough of a reaction, Jess felt himself ripping at that as well, conscious of the pleading attempts to stop him from Lorelai - "You can't do that Jess. You're not supposed to aggravate it."

He paid her no mind. Watching as he revealed the wound on his arm, deep and purposeful – the jagged line evident of the wanton intention behind the action. He watched as her eyes widened at the redness – sore with overuse of the arm, and truth enough to pack a punch behind their pleas.

"Liz," Jess tried again, "Luke wasn't lying to you."

She gripped at his arm, twisting it as if she could find some flaw – some hint that it wasn't a real cut. As if they were very dedicated to this elaborate joke.

Jess saw the moment that it sunk in and she recoiled away from him. She dropped his arm, the slap of the sound as it hit back against his body unexpectedly, forcing a hiss from his throat at the pain of the injury hitting, made Lorelai bowl forward and flutter around him.

He let her inspect the injury, but watched his mother as she looked from him – to Lorelai – to Luke – then back to Jess.

"He wasn't lying." She said eventually, "You've tried to kill yourself?" Her voice was getting shrill.

Jess stayed quiet.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He didn't expect her to get angry. Liz usually never got angry at Jess. She got frustrated that he wouldn't listen to her or her rules. She gave up usually long before she got angry – letting Jess do what he wanted because she'd 'washed her hands of him'. "We were talking Jess – more than we ever have. You weren't causing trouble – why now? Why right now?"

"Was there a more convenient time?"

"Don't start now. You know what I mean."

"No! I don't Liz – What do you mean 'Why now?'. Because you've started giving a shit about me?"

"Hey! Don't talk to her like that." T.J. Tried to interject, but he was drowned out by Liz's crusty voiced cursing through the room.

"Don't you do that Jess," She cried out, turning her back on the boy and any accusation, "I sent you here didn't I?"

Jess was reeling. He was furious. His stupid reminder of his mental issues was throbbing and he was pretty sure he'd popped one of the stitches. The burning in his arm did little to negate the burning through his body – it was like everything he'd ever blamed on his mother, any passing or hidden thought was thrusting itself to the forefront of his mind and he was vibrating with rage.

He followed her attempt at escape, at putting a distance between the two, until he was gripping her arm and shoving her around to meet him eye-to-eye.

"You sent me here with some bullshit excuse. You told everyone I was causing trouble in New York – that I was too much for you to handle." He said the words through crunching, grinding teeth. "You sent me to live with a _stranger._ A vague fog of a man from my childhood because you couldn't be bothered with me any more."

A barely audible plea from his Uncle to calm down echoed through the pungent silence in the room. It was a night of revelations and it seemed that Liz was terrified of facing the truth.

"Are you saying it's my fault that you're feeling like that? That I'm a terrible mother for not noticing? I thought you were doing better – you told me you were doing better."

"No." Jess breathed out, stepping away from her with a shake of his head and the indentation of his nails in his palms. "No – I'm not saying it'd your fault. I'm fucked up – I've apparently got issues and we're dealing with them. _We._ As in me and Luke are. I don't need your help through this – I've got him."

He began walking back towards the front door, desperate to get away from the thickness of the emotions in the room. "And honestly, Liz." He knew he was angry. He knew he was letting that take hold of his words, but as he felt his throat close and his wound throb as a vague trickle of blood tickled from the broken stitches to his fingers, he cast the final blow. "I didn't expect you to notice. You've never treated me like your son – and I'm never going to treat you like my mother."

He stormed from the house. He didn't hear anyone make a move to follow him, and he was glad for the little reliefs.

"Oof."

His escape was stopped short as he stumbled forward and attempted to correct his footing from where he'd smacked straight into someone.

When he looked up and saw her blue eyes he audibly groaned. "Great," he muttered, "Just what I needed,"

"Jess?"

Jess righted himself, side stepping around the girl and continued his path away from the house as quickly as he could. He turned to walk backward so he could wave to the girl and give her a tight-lipped smile.

"Good Luck dealing with that shit-show." He said, huffing out so hard that it played with his growing fringe. "Welcome Home, Rory."

And with that he continued with his dramatic exit.


	9. The Great Gatsby

Rory walked in to a silent room – a scarce sight in the Gilmore residence. She let her bag slip from her fingers, signalling her arrival, and winced at the tension that seemed to seep from everyone present. "Not a good time?" She asked.

Lorelai pitched forward, giving her daughter a slight hug and quickly uttering an explanation in her ear. "Jess and his mother had a fight – I'll explain later. But Luke is about to explode so you might want to make yourself vanish for a little bit."

Rory nodded at the explanation, handing Lorelai her bag for the weekend and turning back around and out of the house with a small wave to Luke as he looked on apologetically. As soon as the door shut behind her, Luke turned on Liz.

"What did Jess mean? Why did you send him here Liz?"

Liz crumbled then. She collapsed onto the sofa, her head buried in her hands as she attempted to avoid everyone's eyes.

"T.J. - why don't you come and help me in the kitchen for a bit?" Lorelai started walking slowly backwards and away from the scene.

"Why would you need help in the kit-"

"T.J. That was a subtle way of suggesting we give them some privacy. Come to the kitchen."

The man followed, and Liz rubbed her hands over her face multiple times before she finally pulled them away and looked her brother in the eye.

"He wasn't in trouble." She said finally.

Luke's eyes narrowed at his sister, "Why did you tell me he was? Jesus Liz! I thought he was some miscreant – his attitude didn't help – but I thought he was causing some criminal damage."

"No!" She defended, "Jess wouldn't do something like that. He pulls pranks – sure, but what boy doesn't. They're never as bad as some of the things you used to pull on Dad."

"Liz-"

"He was working a lot – I needed some help paying rent each month. And Danny – that was my boyfriend at the time, we broke up long before me and T.J. started seeing each other but -" She cut off her ramblings as she noticed her brother's glare, "That's not the point. Danny was kind of living with us, he didn't really like Jess' attitude and he wasn't putting anything towards the bills and rent so Jess had to pick up a few extra shifts to help out."

"One of Jess' friends was in some trouble – they were struggling to make enough to eat I think because his parents have gotten hooked on the hard stuff and -" She cut herself off again following another glare from Luke, "Anyway. Jess started giving him some of his earnings to help out, and because of that I went arrears on the rent."

"You kicked him out because he couldn't help pay the rent which is supposed to be _your_ responsibility?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Then what does this have to do with anything?"

"When Danny found out that Jess didn't pay his share, they both kind of blew up with each other."

"You kicked him out because of one of your five minute boyfriends?" Luke was obviously outraged. His words spat out between barred teeth.

"I -" She stuttered, "I didn't want him to have to deal with any of it any more Luke. I didn't want him having to bail friends out because they'd gotten into trouble. I didn't want him coming home and fighting with me, or Danny, or whoever. I didn't want him to have to help me out any more – I'm suppose to be the one looking after him."

"Why didn't you just tell me this Liz? Why did you tell me he was in trouble?"

"Because telling you that I couldn't afford to feed him is way worse."

Luke shook his head. "Liz, if you're ever in trouble like that, please just tell me."

"You've bailed us out enough."

Luke turned away from his sister, he spotted Lorelai in the kitchen, peering around the corner. At one point in time he would have thought she was eavesdropping, but he knew now she was just making sure that he was handing it all. He made eye contact with her and slightly shook his head to show her that: _no, no he was not okay._

"Do you have somewhere to go tonight?"

"We can book into the inn."

"Good." Luke growled, "I don't think Jess will want to be around you for a while."

"Luke, I didn't mean to-"

"He's got his first session tomorrow with the therapist." He interrupted. "I'm going to take him –" he spoke louder of Liz' protests, " _I'm going to take him_ and you will stay away from the diner, and from Jess, until he says so – do you understand?"

He turned back to his sister as she nodded slowly, her head cast down and looking very much like a scolded child. "Why did you bring us back here if you're not even going to let me see him?"

"Because he's going to need you eventually," he started, "and you needed to see him like this."

Liz wanted to leave as soon as she gained some composure. She thanked Lorelai for housing Jess while necessary, apologised for the argument that she was forced to witness and then her and T.J left to her inn after Lorelai called ahead to give some warning.

Luke drove them to the inn, and Lorelai was left with a chillingly empty house – still tense from the Danes domestic and their shouts echoing through her mind.

Jess didn't come to Stars Hollow as a rebellious miscreant.

He'd come to Stars Hollow as a troubled teenager.

Lorelai had some serious thinking to do.

Jess found himself walking towards the river – pulling a book out of his back pocket and tapping his breast pocket hidden in his jacket for the packet of cigarettes that he'd been neglecting. His lighter was jumping around in his front pocket, a constant, reassuring weight. He knew that Luke would be disappointed that he hadn't quit completely, but he was feeling jittery – shaky – and he needed the excuse to breathe slowly and deeply for a little while.

He collapsed down onto the damp wood, looking out along the river, the lights of the street barely reaching the surface of the water, making it seem dark and bottomless in the evening hues. He brought the packet from his pocket and tapped on the surface a few times before he committed to pulled out the cigarette and lighter. He puffed out a few times as he lit it, allowing the smoke to puff around him and obscure his sight for a few seconds before it evaporated into the night.

Jess caught himself staring at the water more often than his book – his mind blank and his eyes vacant. He brought the cigarette from his hand to his lips, inhaling the smoke and embracing the feel of the nicotine that seemed to rush through his veins. He was so frustrated with himself as of late. He felt like he was barely existing and he desperately wanted to stop feeling like that.

He couldn't even place when he had started feeling so helpless. He felt like if he could figure out that – he could figure out how to fix it. Yet, once again, his thoughts turned dark as he began to believe that it might never happen. He might always feel that way. The light at the end of the tunnel was a small as the blistering filter paper of his cigarette, burning away amongst the ash.

He surprised himself as his eyes began to burn and the familiar dull ache in his head. He was crying.

"Huh," he said to himself, pulling the cigarette for one last drag, "At least that's feeling _something."_

"Jess?"

He should have guessed she would appear. Jess flicked the stub into the water and turned slowly to the girl, not bothering to hide the signs of his distress – knowing that it was far too late to try.

"Rory." He nodded, greeting her as she walked cautiously towards him and fell into the spot next to him.

"Are you okay?"

"Ah," He sighed out, "Just peachy."

She noticed his tears. And he noticed that she noticed – but he didn't react, he just continued to sit and stare.

"How's Yale?" he asked eventually.

"It's still there."

"Rory –" Jess said gruffly, "Please. Please just tell me about your life or something"

She didn't say anything, looking at his reflection in the water. She was grimacing as she readjusted in her spot and tried to relieve some of the awkwardness that had settled. "I went to Europe over the Summer with my Grandmother."

"My condolences."

She snorted and quickly covered her face and glanced wide-eyes towards Jess who had seemed to startle at the unexpected noise. She saw the corner of his mouth quirk up and something in her seemed to settle and relax at the sight.

"What happened to your debutante training, Miss Gilmore?"

"I gave it up along with the fan dance."

Jess grinned slightly at her comment, before returning his eyes back to the lake, and continuing to tap on his book as if she hadn't interrupted him.

"It was a bit different from the backpacking with my mum,"

"Less dumpster diving, more fine dining?" he pulled out another cigarette.

"Something like that."

"I bet Lorelai was devastated. The umbilical cord finally cut."

She hummed, and he glanced up at her uncertainty, "I don't know," She uttered. She shook her short hair so it covered her face and Jess watched her, unable to stop the disbelief appearing on his face, one eyebrow raised and an unlit cigarette dangling limp in his mouth.

She noticed his look and grumbled to herself, "Things have changed since you left, Jess."

"Well, I could've told you that."

She tried to avoid his eye, waiting for the explanation, but he was relentless, "I'd rather not talk about it." She said eventually, looking out at the water, watching at his feet kicked back and forth as they dangled.

They were quiet for some time then. The sound of Jess' inhalation and exhalation of the cigarette until it was burning too close to his fingers, and forcing him to stub it out on the bridge. The slowly passing water, the creak of the wood underneath them, and the rustle of the branches hitting each other in the slight wind.

They were quiet until Rory couldn't take her thoughts any longer. "Why did you do it Jess?"

"Why did I do what?"

"You know what. Why?"

He breathed out jaggedly, and repeated her own words back to her, "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Please. Please Jess. Because I'm sat here feeling so guilty that I didn't try and get through to you sooner and that I didn't notice that you were feeling like that and-"

"Wait. What?"

"What?"

"You think this is because of you?"

"I-"

"You really think that I tried to off myself because you rejected me or something?"

She didn't say anything, but her silence was clear enough.

"Jesus, Rory." He shook his head, angry, his voice shaking and his hands fisting. He pushed himself up from the bridge and walked around the girl towards the escape, but not before he turned back to her once more and looked into her watering eyes and quivering lip, "Just because this town revolves around you, Princess, doesn't mean the world does."

Jess walked away from her, unable to prevent his hands from fisting, nor his head from shaking back and forth in utter disbelief of Rory's one-track, semi-egotistical view of herself and the world.

Had she always been been that entitled? Or had the change that everyone kept hinting at made her into that person?

As he delved deeper into his own questioning, he felt himself casting a shadow over their dramatic and intense relationship – was he the sole cause for its failure like he originally thought?

He didn't pass anyone on his way through the town. He saw lights on in the houses – Andrew's silhouette in the window of the bookshop looking through the day-end cash-book. He briefly debated over going to the shop to help out but ultimately wanted to be alone – and instead head towards the diner, bypassing the front to avoid Caesar and any stragglers, and instead taking the back entrance and bolting up the stairs two at a time.

He cast through the door of the apartment with a bang of the door and let the shiver of the cold that cling to him from outside seep it's way down his back. He took a step forward, looking around the room, and stopped as abruptly as if he'd walked into a wall.

Jess forgot about the blood. Luke had managed to clean up most of the stains, there wasn't really any visible sign that Jess had come moments from nothing in that apartment. Not visible evidence of the blood. But he could smell the bleach used to clean it. He could smell the faintly metallic evidence of the puddles that were left behind.

He took a moment to close his eyes, his hand pushing into his back pocket where he could feel the pages of the small book there – effectively succeeding in grounding him in the reality as he thumbed the pages of fiction. He breathed. Just focused on that feeling. The slow inhalation, breathing deeply, listening to his own breath, cringing away from the metallic smell that seemed to hit the back of his throat – but he didn't shy away from it. He held his ground and slowly opened his eyes – staring down the bathroom and eventually stepping towards it.

He stayed in the entrance of the room for some time. He expected the chaos to still be in place – he pictured everything still knocked over, mirror smashed, curtain rail down, blood soaked floor. But obviously Luke had cleaned up. He'd fixed everything. Got rid of all evidence of it ever happening.

And Jess felt strangely uncomfortable that there wasn't any sign of it there.

Like he felt like just because it had made a scar on him, it should have made a scar on the room.

Jess stumbled away from the room haunting him and pulled out the book from his pocket, flicking it open and throwing himself on his bed, facing away from the bathroom – ready to lose himself into a different world for the rest of the evening.

He had his first appointment the next day with a person he was supposed to lay down his deepest and darkest thoughts to.

He needed the last few moments of escapism before the shrink inevitably told him it was 'unhealthy'.

Jess was woken up the next morning by a light shake of his shoulder and the whispered disturbance of his uncle.

"Wake up, Jess."

He blinked slowly. His lid gluing together in their fatigue. His hand was dangling over the side of the bed, his book abandoned under it, and his fingers tingling as the blood pooled in their tips.

He groaned, noting the lack of light in the room suggesting it's early hour and the distinct silence from downstairs confirming this.

Luke answered Jess' groan like the boy had been impudent.

"Yeah, yeah. You're not getting up before the sun. You're a growing boy. Did I know that teenagers need statistically more sleep?" Luke put on a voice and chuffed out a laugh at his own impression, "You've tried it all before – now get up."

Jess answered the mans' rant with another groan and rolled onto his back so that he could slowly pull himself up into consciousness.

"Who decided this was a good idea?" He groaned, his voice thick and rough against his throat, and his hair flopping into his face and into his squinting eyes.

"Therapy?" Luke asked from the kitchen, "I'd say the medical professionals."

"No," Jess elongated the word, making it sound ridiculous, "Therapy this early in the morning."

"Well," Luke cleared his throat, "So long as you're not complaining about the therapy then I'd say that's a step in the right direction."

"I've been awake less than five minutes Luke – There's still time."

Luke didn't grace that with a response. Instead, he placed a bowl of cereal and an apple on the dining table and herded Jess towards the food, fussing around him until the boy sat down and took a bite. He watched him eat – making sure he swallowed the food and being very evident in his concern.

"Luke," Jess said, his mouth full of food and negating any manners that he might have attempted to at a time less ridiculous. "I actually do know how to eat – taught myself and everything."

"Alright smart ass. Just hurry up or we'll be late."

They were in the truck less than 10minutes later. The sun had started to rise over the horizon, the window was caked with frost that had Luke grumbling as he scraped it off, and the heat of their breaths billowed around them in the freezing temperature of the icy interior.

The heaters were blasting, the only noise in the tense silence between the men as Luke drove them away from Stars Hollow and towards Hartford. Neither of them wanted to mention Liz, nor their conversations with the woman. Neither of them wanted to ask whether or not it was a good idea to tell her what was going on. And neither of them wanted to admit that it was kind of nice to have her back – even if the first day did end in disaster.

So instead, Luke opted for the next thing that had been playing on his mind.

"You're going to try aren't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you're actually going to listen to this person and try what they suggest – no matter how fruity."

Jess sighed, moving his eyes from the passing scenery to his nervous uncle who kept having to readjust his grip on the steering wheel and leaving sweaty marks on the leather.

"Yes Luke." Jess said, "I am. Even if what I think they're saying is bullshit – I'm going to try."


	10. Ordinary People

It wasn't what he expected when he thought of "Therapist's Office". The image that came to mind was that of one of two extremes – either a completely wooden room, floor to ceiling book shelves, antiques and the overall Freudian atmosphere, or every bold, primary colour and cushioned walls – treated as a toddler.

What he encountered was some version of a living room that looked like it belonged in an IKEA catalogue. There was a severe lack of chaise lounge and Jess couldn't help but feel disappointed that the whole "lying down" aspect of therapy was the falsehood of the profession. In it's place was just a selection of very comfortable looking seats, a plate of biscuits and a cut of tea steaming on a pristinely cleaned glass table.

Doctor Marshall – Jane, she corrected, didn't even glance behind her to ensure that he was following. She simply fell into the chair which was obviously hers – the one facing the majority of the others, with the warn grove in the back where she had settled. She shimmied back into the comfort of it and began to sift through his files – medical record of the referral, and any previous relevant information.

He followed her warily. Slowly placing himself down onto on of the less cushioned options of chair and waited for her to begin to talk before he had to.

"So," She tapped her notes onto her lap in attempt to make some form of neat pile, "I've been told you're going to be difficult."

Jess surprised himself by barking out a laugh, and from the raise of her eyebrows it was evident that his reaction had pleased her. He found himself relaxing into the chair after that with the thought running around that maybe it wouldn't be a wasteful hour after all – if nothing else, it'd be entertaining.

She cleared her throat, tapping her sheets on the folder in front of her. "Right Jess, we're going to start off this session slowly okay? We're just going to start by getting to know each other, interests, friends, family and the sorts, get comfortable before we move into the why you're here."

"You want to get to know one another?"

She nodded.

"As in I get to know you as well?"

"Yes."

"So is this some weird way of making friends for you?"

She actually laughed. He felt himself relax a bit into his chair – it felt like a test. If she could take a joke then maybe he could relax a bit – feel less like she's interrogating him.

She coughed, covering her laughter, and tapped her pencil on the notepad she had ready to begin the session. "Shall we start with what you do in your spare time?"

Jess didn't look at the doctor, her kept his gaze on the cups of steaming tea in front of them and kept himself focused by rubbing the pad of his thumb against his index finger. He readjusted himself, scratching the back of his head before he eventually answered. "Uh – I read a lot I suppose?"

She grinned at his response, "What kind of books do you like?"

He scoffed. "That is such a loaded question."

"How so?"

"There isn't really an answer."

"Well, then that tells me something about you."

Jess raised an eyebrow and settled back against the back of the chair – he finally made eye-contact with the woman.

"Most people would answer that question with a genre – romance, sci-fi. This tells me that you must be very well read if there isn't anything specific."

"I just read what falls into my lap generally,"

"And do you remember that first book you read – or what sparked your interest in reading?"

He hesitated, obviously uncomfortable with the line of questioning, but Jane kept patient and let the smile relax onto his face as a reassuring gesture.

He cleared his throat before answering. "Our neighbour in new york was a librarian. She used to babysit me when Liz was working overtime -"

"Liz?"

"My mother."

She nodded, noted the name and waved him to continue.

"Well, uh, I suppose it started as a way to pass the time."

"And when did it become something more?"

"When I started disagreeing with them."

"What do you mean?"

"The characters, or omniscient narrator used to say things I'd disagree with. I remember that I got so frustrated that I took a pencil and ranted next to the passage after that – it just got addictive."

"You write in your books?"

"Yeah – it helps me to remember quotes and characters."

"People like Mark Twain used to right in the margins of their books."

"So I've been told."

He watched as she regarded him. He couldn't tell what she was thinking but he supposed he wasn't supposed to.

"Tell me about where you're living at the moment."

"I'm back at Stars Hollow with my uncle."

She nodded, "I've heard of Stars Hollow. It's a very small place to live."

"That's an understatement. It's like something out of Catcher in the Rye."

"Is your uncle a good man?"

Jess nodded fervently, "He used to help me and Liz out in New York. He took me in when he didn't have to. He's a bit pathetic but I owe him."

He cringed when he said that. He knew that this was a person who would read in to everything he said. But the Doctor only smiled at his explanation and attempted to move the conversation along.

"Now, I want you to get the most out of this hour – so I'm afraid I'm going to have to jump into the reason for your referral."

Jess took a deep breath that echoed through her pause.

"You were rushed to hospital because you harmed yourself. After speaking to your uncle it was established that this wasn't the first close call."

Jess nodded.

"You have sever depression relating to some form of anxiety."

He cringed.

"I'm here to confirm this diagnoses and help you through your feelings while on your medication. Can you explain to me what you're feeling on a day to day basis?"

The doctor was patient. He was visibly uncomfortable and was constantly re-adjusting himself on the seat. He huffed out a breath every time he tried to explain, but he eventually just got too frustrated and growled at his incompetency.

"It's fine if you can't put it into words – that's common."

"No. Words are my thing. I have the words – I'm just. If I say it – it feels real. But it also feels so inconsequential and pathetic."

"Jess. You're brain is attacking itself. It's not pathetic."

He breathes through his nose and tried again.

"I feel like I'm floating."

"Can you elaborate?"

"I just don't feel like I'm all here. And when I have those moments of clarity – I want to be floating again."

"Do you have any idea what triggered this feeling?"

"I couldn't really tell you. I know I'm messed up, okay? I'm three for three on my guardian kicking me out – I'm a joke."

She was nodding through his rant and Jess quickly realised he had revealed more than he had expected to.

"You think it'd your fault that your guardians made you leave?"

"Of course it's my fault. Who else's fault would it be?"

"You were underage until very recently, Jess. Your safety is your parent or guardians' responsibility. If they did, in fact, kick you out – that's their irresponsibility. You are not the cause – you are the consequence."

He shifted uncomfortably under her intense gaze – it was almost like she was trying to reaffirm her statement just through the act of prolonged eye-contact. He had to break it sooner than he would have like to admit

She nodded, wrote something down, and then went back to smiling at him. "What about your father?"

"Jimmy?"

She didn't know, obviously, but nodded for him to continue.

"I hadn't ever met him – didn't recognise him when he came to the diner when I was working."

"So he left when you were little?"

"Went to get diapers and never returned." He explained, "I, uh, spent the summer with him, his girlfriend and her daughter."

"And how was that?"

"It was... difficult? I'm not sure how to describe it. He wasn't what I expected – and he was looking after this kid and..." he slowly veered off, but from the way the therapist was nodding her head and writing her notes – she got the gist of his concerns.

The doctor, noting Jess' discomfort, changed the topic back to his interests – conscious of already having an idea of possible suggestions she could make. And, with a few more minutes left of the session, she said, "I'm afraid I'm going to give you a project. Now, I won't actually be able to tell if you've tried this – but I do know that if you try it it will give you some improvement."

"Very vague."

She ignored his sarcasm. "I want you to look in the mirror every evening and tell you reflection something you appreciate in your own appearance, in your day, and something someone else did for you that day that you noticed."

"You want me to look in the mirror and go all west-side story with 'I feel pretty'?"

"I'd like to think it was more of 'I feel valued'. But yeah, you've got the gist of it."

He couldn't help but cringe at the image in his head – him practising that in the mirror while his uncle listened through the very thin walls. He's not sure he'd be able to look Luke in the eye again if he was forced to do that.

With the declaration of the project, and a few more moments of small-talk, the session was over. Jess was surprised by how quick it went – and how often he found himself talking. He found himself smiling at Jane as she led him to the door – guiding him back to his uncle who was sat in the waiting room, flicking through the generic magazines and looking entirely uncomfortable.

"I'll see you weekly for the first few weeks of your medication as a precautionary measure – but we will eventually turn this into fortnightly and slowly wean you off. This is my card for any emergencies along with a few helpline number if they are completely necessary. It was lovely meeting you Jess – Mr Danes, your nephew is a very accomplished young man."

Jess coloured significantly, shaking off her arm from his shoulder and quickly moving back Luke and out of the office. Luke nodded at the woman, smiling and thanking her with only a hint of his usual gruffness, and then followed his nephew just as swiftly. The teenager put on his seatbelt, crossed his arms, and leant his head against the cold window as his Uncle started up the engine and pulled away into the road.

He cleared his throat after a few minutes of silence between the two, "So what was that like?"

Jess sighed, "Not what I expected, honestly."

"How do you feel?"

"It's not like an instant cure-all, Luke. We spent most of it thinking about what books we liked."

"Oh."

"Yeah,"

Jess noticed Luke looked just as nervous as he did on the way down.

"What is it Luke?"

The man swallowed. "What're you going to do about Liz?" Luke flexed his fingers against the wheel, his eyes glancing to Jess every so often, but unable to turn his head right round to see him for fear of the boys reaction.

From the way Jess breathed out harshly, spitting out the words "I wouldn't have had to do anything about Liz if you hadn't butt in." - Luke belatedly realised he probably shouldn't have brought it up.

"You know why I told her Jess – you're young, you don't understand but family needs to know these things."

"If you genuinely thought that – then Jimmy would also be here."

The tense silence followed them home. Luke didn't answer him, but from the way his face screwed up, and his hands tightened on the wheel – it was obvious that he didn't have an answer for him other than his own prejudices against the man.

When Luke pulled up next to the diner and shut of the engine he turned towards the boy who was already attempting to unbuckle and get out of the car as quickly as possible.

"He kicked you out, Jess."

"So did everyone else – what else is new?"

He slammed the door behind him and walked away from his Uncle and the diner.

The air had gotten bitter. It was no longer the heat of his breath against the cool winter wind – it was now biting. He could taste the ice in the air and feel his face begin to tingle. He tucked his hands further into his pockets and tucked his head further into the warmth of his coat. He walked aimlessly around the town, stomping out his anger on the crunchy, frozen ground.

He didn't mean to snap at Luke. He really didn't.

He didn't want Jimmy there.

He didn't want Liz there.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to analyse why that was just yet.

Grumbling, the boy spied the nearest bench and made his way over to it, slumping down on the frosted wood – ignoring the way that the small icicles melted under his clothes. He slipped out the book he had cradled in his pocket and settled into a different world.

He ignored the chatter of his 'neighbours' as they walked past. He ignored the rush of people around him. He ignored the slamming of doors and the boisterous laughter.

He ignored it right until he saw something from the corner of his eye – much like a sense memory, a reaction, his head snapped up from the words and he saw the girl he had stormed away from the night before.

She hadn't seen him, but he couldn't help but watch as she looked back and forth, checking around her for company, before skipping up the steps to one of the houses in the cul-de-sac and ring on the doorbell, pulling at her gloved hands as she waited for whoever to answer.

She fixed her hat over her head, pulled her her jumper and readjusted the fringe that had fallen in front of her face. She was nervous.

The door opened and looming in the entrance was the floppy haired boy that darkened almost every pleasant memory Jess had with the girl.

Jess watched with sick fascination as the girl pushed forward and kissed the boy in greeting.

The door shut behind them as Dean let Rory into the house.

"Huh."


	11. Shane

"We should talk,"

Lorelai pitched forward, she stumbled from her perch behind the counter – knocking over the display of magazines she was adjusting and almost spilling into her coffee.

"Wha-?"

Liz stood on the other side of the counter. Her hands were gripped over the surface and looking to invade into Lorelai's personal space – reaching for the woman's hands in what was definitely meant to be enthusiasm.

"We should talk – I can come over, a few drinks, conversation. You know! Talk!"

"Uh – Why?"

"You're dating my brother, silly. I want to get to know you better. Luke is obviously enamoured – it's only right that I learn about my possible sister-in-law."

"Woah, Liz. You might be going into warp-drive there."

"A trekkie? That makes sense."

Lorelai snickered at the reminder of Luke's Star Trek obsession, and failed to defend herself from Liz' planning.

"So tonight? I can come over at about 6 – we can have a few drinks and get to know one another. TJ is meeting up with friends in the centre of town, and I'll be by myself anyway. Brillaint! I will see you then."

The woman ran off without Lorelai being able to get another word in, skipping away and back upstairs to her room in her inn.

Lorelai shook her head, smoothed down her work skirt and muttered incredulously to herself, "What the hell?"

She picked up the phone and rang Luke.

Jess walked back into the diner, his book open and his eyes never leaving the words. He heard the bell above him, and fumbled around behind him to catch the door before it crashed behind him. He took two steps forward before -

"-Jess!"

He fumbled, jumping, dropping his book after a grappling attempt at catching it, "Jesus _Christ."_

He stood upright, looking at the small woman incredulously, his palms held out and his eyebrows raised, "What the _hell_ Lane?"

"Sorry. Did I scare you?"

"Scare me? No. Of course, just ..."

She raised an eyebrow behind her thick frames.

"Okay, yeah. Scared me." He pushed passed her, picking up his book and smoothing out the cover, "What's up, Lane?"

"Luke is looking for you."

"Thanks, uh – where?"

"He bolted out earlier."

She turned back around, waving absent-mindedly behind her at the door. He followed her to the counter, placing his book down and slipping onto one of the stools. "Was it a raging, muttering bolting out of here, or more of a worrying, manic bolting?"

"Calm Down. It was a more 'I have to speak to Jess', bolting out of here." Lane rubbed down the counter in front of him, consciously avoiding the area around the book.

"While you wait," She continued, "Shall I get you something to eat? It's not like I'm swamped right now." She gestured vaguely around the empty diner and Jess snorted as he agreed.

"You're taking the fall if Luke is pissed."

"Pft," She waved off his concerns, "Luke loves me – he wouldn't dare be pissed."

He laughed, obviously surprising her from her widened eyes and muted squeak. He didn't acknowledge it, favouring to avoid the girl's embarrassment and instead opened his book, reading while she busied herself around the kitchen. When she did eventually place a plate of warm Chilli in front of him, she settled her elbows next to him and kept stuttering out conversation starters.

"What's up, Lane?"

"Nothings up – why would you think something was up. I'm just trying to chat – is that a crime?"

"Not a crime, no." He took a bite of the chilli, humming around the fork at the taste, "but I'd say we're both chronic avoiders of small-talk."

"Nothing's wrong." She said again, taking out a mug from under the counter and placing it in front of him in a grace evident of practice. She paused, pouring the coffee, and eyeing him as he ate. "You've missed a lot here, Jess."

He thought back to Rory and Dean only hours before - "I've gathered that."

He took a bite of his food and carefully chose his words, "Want to give me the low-down?"

"Of Stars Hollow? I don't think you'd be interested."

"Well, what about you Lane?"

"Oh, Well, Sure. I guess... well, a lot has changed there."

He gestured her to continue.

"I've moved out of my mother's house, I'm living with the band now."

He almost choked on his food. "You. You moved out? Your mother let you leave?"

"More like, she kicked me out."

"Oh. Jeez, Lane. I'm sorry, I know the feeling."

She regarded him carefully, "Yeah," she said, "I suppose you do."

He quickly got uncomfortable under her gaze, "What about the band? Dave still about?"

She cringed, and he realised his mistake. "uh, no." She said, "He moved to California for school – it didn't work out."

He paused momentarily, "I'm not doing great on this whole conversation thing, am I?"

"Just a few misses," She watched as he ate some more, happy to be seeing the boy get some appetite back, "How're you doing, Jess?"

He shrugged non-committally, "How do I look like I'm doing?"

"Honestly – not great."

"I can see why Rory hangs out with you – such encouragement."

"You know we're all just worried, Jess."

"Who is 'we' exactly?"

"We. Us. You know; Luke, Andrew, Lorelai, Rory – the town."

"I honestly doubt the town gives a shit."

"Well you're wrong."

"That's a new feeling."

She snorted. "They may not seem like it, and I know they were hard on you the last time you were here – but they do care. No one would wish what you're going through on their worst enemy – let alone someone they know and begrudgingly care about,"

A smirk briefly shows on his face and the apt description of any semblance of their 'caring', and yet he seemed to come back to reality just as quickly, "How do you know what I'm going through?"

"Jess. No one here is an idiot – please give us credit. Everyone wants to help - just not everyone is very good at that, at showing you. Just," she hesitated, pulling out a cup fro under the counter and wiping it away of any dust, "Just, you know, keep that in mind."

Jess nodded, trying to hide his discomfort at the conversation turn and stuffed more of the chilli into his mouth to stop himself from saying anything unnecessarily ungrateful.

He was saved by Luke bursting through the door – the noise drowning out the aggressive bell ringing – gratuitously announcing his arrival.

"Where have you been?"

Jess, his fork part way to his mouth, and food hanging precariously on the prongs, stumbled over his words "Uh, Here?"

"I've been looking for you everywhere,"

"And I've been here."

Luke pitched forward, he took the boys plate from under him, placing it in the cubby to the kitchen.

"Come on." Luke demanded, stalking passes Jess, grabbing the boy's coat from the back of the chair and marching back out the door.

"Wha-?" Jess cut himself off, made eye contact with Lane, shrugging at his uncles erratic behaviour – then, slipping his book from the table he quickly stumbled after him.

Jess followed Luke into his Jeep and waited for the man to start driving until he began to question his behaviour "What's going on?"

"Your mother has decided to get to know Lorelai better."

"Why is this an emergency?"

"She brought over a case of beer and some wine – that was a few hours ago."

Jess cringed opening, pulled his seatbelt around himself tighter and nodded determinedly like he'd just made the decision to march into battle, "Right. Emergency. Let's go then."

Luke rush to Lorelai's, apparently more concerned about what Liz could be saying to Lorelai then his diner and keeping up his income.

"You realise this is all your fault, right?" Jess mused moment before they arrived.

"Shut up, Jess."

The loud, boisterous laughter escaping through the cracked window in the kitchen only put Luke more on edge as they both made their way to the back entrance. The fact that Lorelai's manic giggles were louder than Liz's gruff chortles effectively catapulted Luke through the door.

Jess sauntered in afterwards, sidestepping his frozen uncle and letting himself grin at the interaction.

"Evening Ladies," Jess said in a drawl, his mouth pinched as he attempted to hold in an explosive laugh.

The scene they were met with was Liz and Lorelai, swaddled under a river of blankets that had spilled into puddles on to the linoleum floor of the kitchen. They had one empty bottle of wine on the table, another half drunk. Old take-away cartons littering the spare chair and Lorelai was creating artful knots in his mother's hair as she drank the wine gripped in Liz' hand from a straw.

"Jess!" Liz shouted in greeting. Her voice was even under the alcohol's influence – a well verse expert in the state of inebriation – she often slurred more when she was sober.

"Ah, great timing -" Lorelai, on the other hand, stumbled over her words – trying to get one out before the last had finished, "-your mother was just telling me about the Neruda incident of 1989."

His humour evaporated instantly. "Oh, Great." He said sarcastically, "I'm going to leave you to it then." He made to leave.

"Oh Come On, Jess! 'You can only have one book in this store and that's it.' - and the five year old Casanova, Jess Mariano, goes and picked up a collection of the sexiest poems ever? That's Comedy Gold!".

"He wouldn't stop screaming and crying until I let him have it," Liz added with a laugh.

"Thanks, Liz." He growled, "I'll be on the porch if you need me, Luke."

He caught sight of Luke snapping out of her reverie and slipping a hand over Lorelai's shoulder to gather her attention before Jess rounded the corner. Lorelai turned to beam up at Luke in such a way that seemed to light up the room and add colour to the man's face.

Jess made a mental note to remind Luke just how lucky he was.

It was some time later when Jess glanced up from his book, watching at Lorelai meandered onto the porch with a silly smile on her face and a beer held right at the tip of the bottle. He grinned at her approach, watching her sway towards him unsteadily and slowly plop herself down next to him, shimmying herself into a more comfortable position.

"Oh no," Jess said and she was able to hear the amusement in his clipped words, "Are we about to bond?"

"Damn straight, Jess."

She shimmied further down into the cushions next to him, her drink sloshing up the sides of the glass, and she dived forward for the small straw sticking out of the top.

He made a face at the straw and she laughed, "Don't knock it until you try it."

"I'll keep that in mind."

She was quiet for a while – watching him as he read his book. He was aware of her gaze but continued on, knowing that a Gilmore couldn't stay quiet for long. She watched him bite on the pencil in his hand as he thumbed the pages until he finally leant against his knee and scribbled his musings in the margins after underlining a passage with a few blunt lines.

"Your mother is an interesting woman."

Jess huffed in response, but continued his scribblings on the page.

She hesitated again, desperate to start a conversation but unable to get any words out – it was evident that Liz was not a topic of conversation that he wanted to have.

"I wanted to apologise."

"You've already tried that."

"I didn't have all of the facts then – it wasn't real."

"Are you telling me you faked an apology?" He was smirking and Lorelai couldn't help but grin back at his banter.

"Shut up, Jess. I am trying to apologise now. I misjudged you and let my fears out on you. You reminded me too much of Chris-"

"Chris? As in the rich prick who abandoned you and Rory – that Chris?"

"Alright – I know it was cracked."

He scoffed and turned back to his words.

"You're a strong young man, Jess."

His head shot up.

"You're strong, and intelligent, and you obviously care for people deeply when they give you a chance. It's frustrating to see you throw away your intelligence and not finish school, avoid qualifications, when I'm sure that you'd do better than half the quacks out there."

"What happened to the compliments?"

She ignored him, "You had less than half of the opportunities in life that I had and I know how long it took me to find my calling – I get it."

"I don't really get your point."

"All I'm saying is that I finally see what I should have seen when you were here the first time – or the second time. What Rory was trying to make me see – you aren't the devil. You're nice to people who are nice to you, and I'm sorry for not being one of those people."

"I – Thanks."

Lorelai tapped his shoulder once, before quickly pulling it away and going back to sipping her beer through her straw. "Saying that -" She started.

Jess groaned.

"- Rory told me what you said to her last night."

Jess dropped his head, letting his chin rest against his chest for a moment before he slowly brought his head around and looked Lorelai in the eye.

"I was a bit harsh, but it was kind of justified." He attempted to defend.

"No, I get that."

"What?"

"Things have changed here, Jess -"

"Everyone keeps saying that – but no one actually explains why. What happened?"

"Everyone?"

"Luke, Lane, Dean hinted at something- god, even Rory said things have changed. But no one is telling me why. I'm not an idiot – it's obvious something happened. You and Rory acting all awkward around each other. There was a time when her telling you everything was the most worrisome thing in our relationship – and now? Well, now, I don't know what to think."

Lorelai seemed to consider his words for a long time. She sipped on her beer and chewed on the end of the straw as she contemplated her words, "She made some decisions that I disapproved of." She started slowly, twirling her fingers around the bottle and talking _at_ Jess more that _to_ him. "I'm all for making your own mistakes, but she went about it the complete wrong way and – god, I shouldn't be telling you this,"

She didn't say anything. She went back to sipping her beer as if the straw would stop her from saying anything more.

"Does it have anything to do with the fact I saw Rory and Dean out together this morning?"

Her eyes widened and Jess took that as an affirmative.

"I thought he was engaged to that girl... uh, Lindsay?"

She visibly cringed.

"You're going to have to give me something here, Lorelai."

The was a beat of silence.

"He married her."

"Who? Lindsay?"

Lorelai nodded.

"Wow. Quick Marriage."

"Yeah, Rory said that it was like they were trying to put on a 'married couple' act."

She didn't elaborate – and Jess didn't ask her to. Instead, he asked "So Rory and Dean were friends again after I left?"

"Yeah for a bit."

The was the sound of the wind picking up the fallen leaves on the gravel, and then, "Huh."

"What Huh?"

He hummed.

"No. Jess, explain the 'Huh'?"

"It's just, when me and Rory were dating he was really quite – I don't know? Aggressively Possessive?"

"What do you mean?" Her voice pitched higher and she threw herself in such a way that she was fully facing the boy.

"He kept threatening me about her – that he'd steal her away like I 'stole' her from him. That she and him belonged together – all this crap. I thought it was sudden when I found out him and Lindsay were engaged as it wasn't that long after he'd threatened us."

Lorelai paused, contemplating this, before she swore – loudly.

Jess, having never heard the woman swear, couldn't help the hysteric laughter that bubbled up from him. The noise seemed to shock Lorelai out of her thoughts momentarily but her tipsy head seemed to thrust her straight back into her disbelieving grumblings.

"I'm guessing the light is no longer shining out of Dean's ass any more." Jess commented as casually as he could.

Lorelai snorted, "Yeah, well, reality kicked that ideal right in the nuts."

She caught his half smirk, sipping on her beer and looking our into the front garden. She listen to the wind whistling around them, felt the chill rush down her head, her spine, her toes, and felt around blindly for the blanket she knew they kept stored under the bench. As she spread the material over her legs she glanced back at the boy – he'd put down her book, thumb in the right place, but he was watching her with that same half smile, his head resting on his hand – his elbow firming against his bent knee.

"What?" She asked eventually.

His shook his head, snuffling out a slight laugh, "Got to admit, Lorelai, that's music to my ears."

She snorted, "You're still a cocky hoodlum – you know that right?"

He outright smiled at that – his crooked grin spreading over his face, his head ducking to hide the reaction and he shrugged in response, quickly turning back to his book.

Lorelai, ever the believer of quit while you're ahead, stood and announced her departure, "I'm going to go back in there and save your Uncle – will you be alright out here? Do you need a blanket or anything?"

Jess just shook his head, a small "thanks," on his lips and the quirk of a smile evident on his face even from Lorelai's height over him.

She slunk back into the house feeling lighter than she had in a long time.


	12. Goodnight Mister Tom

He felt stupid. God, did he feel stupid.

He could hear his Uncle down in the diner, the bell rang through the open window of the apartment, signalling customers' arrival. The laughter that left from the lively establishment despite the early hour of the morning. He heard Lorelai nursing her hangover, loudly exclaiming for sweet treats as she entered. And he heard Rory following after at a more resolute pace, her laughter at her mothers' despair chiming through the room. And Jess felt stupid.

He shook his hands, dancing from foot to foot and muttered to himself, "You can do this," as he stood, hair askew and eyes tired in front of the mirror.

He took a deep breath, and stared at his own reflection.

"I am..."

It was like he chocked. He couldn't get the rest of the words out. It was stuck in his throat.

He swallowed and tried again, "I am -"

He made eye contact with himself and couldn't help but laugh at his own incompetence. "I am pathetic." he said finally.

"Jess!" He heard his uncle shout up to the apartment, "Are you coming down to help at any point?"

"Yeah!" He shouted back. He took one last look at himself in the mirror, attempting to push back his longer hair so it didn't fall into his face, and huffed at his effort. "Yeah I'm coming."

The glass shook in his wake as the door slammed behind him.

He pushed back the curtain and was greeted with the sight of Lorelai with her head on the bar, groaning loudly while Luke actively tried to ignore her pleas.

"Don't serve her, Jess." Luke ordered, "She deserves what she got."

"Stop wounding me Luke," Lorelai complained, "I was _bonding."_

Jess sniggered, grabbing the pot of coffee on his way around the side of the counter and pouring Rory's cup without serving Lorelai's.

"Jess," she gasped, "I thought we were friends."

He shrugged, smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye, "Boss' order's."

Jess went about the work with a sense of deeply ingrained lethargy that got harder and harder to ignore. His inability to utter three little words to himself hung over him – slowly lowering a weight on his shoulders that pushed him down further as the day went on. His body outright ached with a fatigue that had no logical explanation.

That, coupled with Rory Gilmore's ridiculously apologetic Bambi eyes that followed his movements meant that, by the time his shift had finished, he was ready to hide away up in the apartment, burying himself under the duvet and ignore all the problems facing him.

He honestly didn't expect Rory to follow him up, slamming open the apartment door only moments after he'd shut it. He supposed he should stop trying to predict the actions of the doe-eyed enigma – she never failed to surprise him.

"I'm sorry" She practically shouted in his face.

Jess, halfway stripping of his clothes, slowly slipped his top back down his body. "Uh... what?"

"I'm sorry" she repeated, pacing in front of the sofa and not even looking at Jess as she spoke. "I can't believe I assumed – that I had any influence in -" she huffed, cutting herself off, and fell back onto the sofa. Her head in her hands, hiding her face.

"Wow. I honestly didn't expect that."

She groaned into her palms, "I am such an awful human being."

"You're not awful." He insisted.

"Things have changed Jess, you wouldn't know."

"Nah, I refuse to believe that."

She groaned again, "Stop being nice to me, Jess."

She didn't move from her pitiful position on the sofa. Head in hands and breathing stuttering – evident that she was trying desperately not to cry.

Jess looked urgently back at his bed before sighing and sitting down next to her on the sofa, slipping down the back. His self-indulgent wallowing would have to wait. "What's going on, Rory."

She pulled her hands away from her face and twisted around to look at him for the first time since she entered.

"Things have gone wrong, Jess."

Jess hummed, acknowledging her, but waited for her to continue.

"Things aren't right – and I'm not really sure why. My life just isn't really going how I'd expected."

"It rarely ever does."

She nodded, falling back and letting herself slump into the leather. She was looking ahead – staring into space. Jess was hit with a weird out-of-body experience – realising why Luke would always look so concerned and disturbed when Jess phased out – staring. She looked like a shell of a person. She looked like how he felt.

"Yale not what you expected?"

She shook her head, turning her neck to look at him from where she was seated on the couch. "I'm not enjoying the classes as much as I should be. It's a lot harder than I expected. I mean, I should be in my element – surrounded by intelligent, like-minded people, but I just find a lot of them pompous."

"That doesn't surprise me." Jess said, shrugging, "Your favourite date was when we'd sit outside Chilton and make fun of the rich pricks."

She huffed out a slight laugh, but continued on without much more of a reaction, "Some days I just want to give up."

Her words cut him. His own voice, uttering those same words pounded through his mind.

"You want to drop out of Yale?"

"Maybe, I've been thinking about maybe-"

"-Are you kidding?"

She jumped back at his biting words. "I, uh, no? I just want to-"

"No." Jess interrupted her firmly.

"What?"

"No." He said again, "No, Rory. Just no. You're not going to give up just because you've hit a rough patch. Just because the reality of it is a bit clouded compared to your dreamt utopia."

"That's not what's going on."

"It is. I know how you think, Rory. You have such unrealistic expectations – I should know. I've been victim of it."

He let his words settle and could see the moment her anger dispersed into something else.

"People are flawed. _You_ are flawed. Your studies, your profession – nothing is perfect, nor capable of giving you complete happiness- it's unfair to expect it to."

There were a few moments of blissful silence where Rory seemed to consider him with such a deep scrutiny that Jess wanted to follow through with his plan of hiding away and just jump into the bed a few feet from him and pull the cover over his head.

"I'm sorry." She said eventually. It came out so sincere, so _understanding._ It was clear that she was apologising for more than her idiotic thoughts – but Jess was certain that he didn't want to know exactly what she was attempting to make amends for.

"Will you stop apologising?" He asked quietly, pathetically. His voice barely a whisper.

"But I am." She insisted, "You're right – I mean, of course you're right."

There was a few moments where they both stopped to allow her admission to sink in when Rory's eyes widened and she seemed to scramble away from him like he'd shocked her with a particularly fierce static.

"God – look at me!" She exclaimed, "I'm complaining about my life and I have absolutely no right. You're suffering so much more than I can ever imagine."

Jess huffed. "Just because I'm fucked up doesn't mean your struggles are any less valid."

"But God, my problems must seem pathetic."

"I'd rather we didn't turn this into a discussion about my problem. I already have a professional therapist – I don't need an amateur one."

"Right, yeah. Of course."

Jess was saved from any more awkward skirting around the topic by Luke opening the door cautiously and looking between the two of them on the sofa with an eyebrow raised and with careful movements. When he saw there distanced from each other – on either ends of the sofa, he seemed to settle.

"You mom is waiting for you, Ror."

"Right okay," Rory stood up and awkwardly skirted past Luke, "Good talk, Jess." She lifted a hand in a wave, seemed to consider her actions, and then dropped it just as quickly, "– uh – Bye." She left quickly, her hurried footsteps audible from the apartment as she rushed back down to the diner.

Jess leant forward, groaning, letting his head fall into his waiting palms – rubbing them over his face.

"You alright mate?" Luke took a step further into the room, unsure of his nephew's frustration.

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about me, Luke."

Jess waved him off, standing up and making his way to his bed, collapsing into it in his clothes and dragging the duvet over his head. He let out a loud and satisfied sigh before melting into the sheets.

"Right." Luke said, the words dripping sarcasm, "You're fine."

Luke left the apartment door open so he could hear Jess moving about when, or if, he eventually did, and returned to the diner.

Jess tried to utter those three words to himself again later that evening.

He was back under the covers ten minutes later, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I don't think the pills are working. He hasn't gotten out of that bed for three days." Luke was pacing in the diner, he'd closed the doors a while a go for some privacy – but it didn't stop a few of the townsfolk from cupping their hands over their eyes and peering into the establishment. He could hear their loud complaints at his closure, but he didn't give them any mind.

"It'll take a few months for there to be a noticeable change, Mr Danes."

Luke grunted, turning his back on Kirk's face pressed against the glass. "Well he's not doing well – this is the longest he's ever done this. He was doing so well and now its like he's worse than ever."

"Would you like to escalate the meeting? I can get a judge of his current state and determine if he needed to be sectioned."

"Sectioned?"

"Yes, Mr Danes. If I have reason to believe that Jess is planning on harming himself any more than I may have to coordinate constant monitoring that is only available in hospital."

"I don't think sectioning will be necessary – he's not out of control."

"It's not about being out of control. This is a disease, Mr Danes. Sometimes it needed hospital treatment just as much as any other physical ailment."

Luke nodded on the other side of the phone, but didn't say anything. His worry for the boy was gnawing on him. Jess hadn't been able to get out of bed of his own accord. He was only remembering to eat when Luke put a plate of food in front of him. He'd sleep all day. And when he was awake he may as well be sleeping – he just looked at nothing, his eyes haunted.

Luke wasn't sure if Rory was to blame for his sudden dip in depression, but Luke found himself blaming her all the same. She was the last one to speak to him before he went through the worst of his 'non-days' as Luke had taken to coining them.

"Mr Danes?" Doctor Marshall prompted him, "I can book him in for a session this evening – do you think you'll be able to convince him out of bed?"

Luke huffed, looking up at the ceiling where he knew Jess had buried himself under his blanket. "I haven't been successful yet, but I can try."

"That's all I ask Mr Danes. If you are unsuccessful then I'd like you to ring me back, we can figure out something."

"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you."

"I will see you soon, Mr Danes."

Luke hung up the receiver, fumbling with the cord and attempted to ignore the citizens of Stars Hollow who were crowding around the entrance. After an embarrassingly long time lingering at the bottom of the stairs trying to convince himself to head up, he eventually sat at the foot of Jess' bed and rested his hand over the teenagers' ankle – trying to get his attention away from the ceiling.

"Jess?"

The boy hummed, acknowledging him.

"I think we should go back to Doctor Marshall."

"My appointment isn't for another few days." Jess responded blankly.

"She's booked in one for this evening."

That seemed to get the teenagers' attention. "You rang her?" Jess somehow managed to sound offended at Luke's concern.

"Jesus, Jess. I've been worried. You've barely moved for three days."

Jess looked down then, avoiding Luke's eye and pulling at the dirty shirt he'd be wearing the past few days. "I've got it handled."

"Well, you obviously don't." Luke replied with as much sass as the boy had put in. Luke sighed, rubbing his hand over the boys' ankle soothingly, "Please Jess, do it for the sake of my sanity."

Jess groaned, falling back into the covers and running a hand over his head. "Yeah," Jess said, "Yeah, okay."

Jess showered. Luke lingered outside the closed door, close by and unable to leave him alone – images of the red stained bathroom flashing in his eyes and making him paranoid at each unusual noise in the room.

Jess dressed. Luke pottered around the kitchen, making Jess a sandwich and and grabbing a bottle of water for the boy to drink before they left – knowing that the teenager had been neglecting his own appetite for his few days of basic comatose.

Jess ate. Luke herded them out of the apartment and down the stairs, leading the boy towards the back entrance so he wouldn't have to deal with their perpetually nosy neighbours that Luke was slowly started to despise.

Their drive to the office was silent. Jess had his head leant against the window, his eyes closed and his grey jumper pulled around him like a blanket. He looked ill. He looked physically ill – and Luke's worry was starting to take over his every thought.

Doctor Marshall greeted them at reception, herded Jess into the room and shut the door. Luke collapsed into the waiting chairs and let out a breath, his tense energy leaving with the action – and Luke felt like he'd just avoided a disaster.

The magazine he'd picked up rustled in his grip – Luke simply opted to ignore his perpetually shaking hands.

"Where were you before you moved back in with your Uncle?"

"Before he dragged me from the toilet seat and back into the arms of Stars Hollow, you mean?"

She didn't seem to appreciate his darker humour. He cleared his throat, readjusted in his seat, and answered her question. "I was back in New York."

"Living with your mother?"

"Oh, no." He laughed outright at the absurdity, "She's off with TJ on this Renaissance Fayre for the majority of the year – they sold their place in the city."

"So you were living by yourself?"

"I had room-mates – but mostly, yeah."

"Did you enjoy it?"

He hesitated. He knew he was meant to be telling the truth in the sessions – but it didn't mean that it was easy. "Not really?"

She stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue to talk and fill the silence. He was well aware of the technique, having read about it as soon as he knew he would be in consistent therapy, but he had to admit it was very effective.

"The place I lived in was kind of shit? It was perpetually cold, there was mould growing on the ceiling, and my mattress had this smell that would linger no matter how many new sheets I bought to cover it." He explained, "And I'd gotten used to the quiet."

"What do you mean?"

He hesitated, pulling at his finger nails while he tried to plan out his words before he spoke. "For as long as I can remember I have had to have some kind of noise to get to sleep – and easy prerogative in New York with the fact the city never sleeps. But in Stars Hollow it was torturous. I think I went days without _actually_ sleeping when I first arrived – I'd end up wandering around the town at night and then usually end up pulling something, pranks and stuff, just for the lack of anything else to do. I used to blast some music – which I knew would drive Luke crazy but I didn't really have another option."

"What changed?"

"I don't really know." He admitted, "Luke had gone to Lorelai's to help fix something or other – Lorelai is Luke's now girlfriend, she wasn't at the time,"

The therapist nodded her head, "I remember, please continue."

"Anyway, I remember being sat in the apartment next to the window – I was basically leaning fully out of it because Luke didn't want me smoking in the apartment but I really needed one. Half of my body was hanging out of this window, and I just kind of _listened."_

He threw himself back into the memory and let himself remember what it felt like – when he came to the conclusion that he had found _peace_ in that whack-job town.

"Silence used to be the first sign of trouble in New York – it was the first sign of something inherently _wrong._ It took a while for me to get used to it, I suppose. To get used to silence meaning the mundane again. But it wasn't completely silent, you know. I could hear people talking further down the street. I could hear someone's television blaring in the building next door. I could hear the birds – and god it felt like such a long time since I could just _hear_ birds."

"And now that you're back? Do you find the quiet comforting?"

"I can hear myself think – and I'm not particularly sure if that's a good thing any more."

"You're not able to listen if you can't hear." She said.

"As _inspiring_ as that is, I'd say that the deaf would find that pretty insulting."

"How about you suspend disbelief for once in your life, Jess."

Jess shrugged.

"How did you find the little homework I gave you?"

He was hoping she wouldn't ask.

"Yeah, fine." He shrugged, avoiding her eye.

She looked dubious. He wasn't sure he would be able to get away with it.

"Would you mind demonstrating?" She gestured to the mirror on the far wall.

Of course he wouldn't get away with it.

He stood up, pulling down his shirt and cleared his throat as he made his way to mirror. He could see her watching him. She obviously knew that he had been lying and was curious to see how far he would take it.

He looked at himself in the mirror and immediately cringed at his own appearance. He knew then that he wouldn't be able to say it. "I -" He stuttered, "I can't."

"Have you managed at all, Jess?"

He swallowed hard, unable to look away from himself. "No. No I haven't."

"I understand that this is hard – but you have to understand why I want you to do this."

"I'm not a child! I know _why_ you want me to do this. I know the kind of psychological effect it's meant to have – but that doesn't make it any easier to do."

"I know you're not a child, Jess. But you need to get over this hurdle before you can progress. I can't help you if you refuse to put in the effort."

"I'm putting in the effort. You don't understand _how much_ I am trying. I just – I just _can't."_

"Jess -"

Jess couldn't stand there any longer. He knew, objectively, that she was trying to help – that he was being difficult. But he just felt so trapped in that moment. So cornered that he had to get out of there – he had to leave. He shook his head at her and bolted out of the room, only vaguely aware of her shouts after him and Luke's equally confused calls.

When he got outside he stopped, leaning against the brick and breathed. He felt nauseous. His head was pounding and his eyes were stinging. And he felt nauseous.

He leant his palms against his knees and shook. His whole body shook and he couldn't help the whine that escaped him at the desperation of it all – he constantly felt on edge. On some great precipice and he couldn't _stop_ it.

"Jess?"

Jess managed to pull himself together with remarkable speed. He pushed himself off of the wall and used the momentum to cast himself toward the truck – hopping in and waiting for his uncle to follow.

Luke did just that, slipping into the truck with a bounce and fiddled with the keys.

"What happened, Jess?"

"Nothing, Luke. Can we just go?"

Luke deliberated. He fumbled with the keys – but rather than turn the ignition he just settled back with his hands in his lap and asked the question again.

"I don't want to talk about it, Luke."

"I'm not going to move until we sort this, Jess."

Jess grumbled, adjusting in his seat, before he eventually undid his seatbelt, opened the door, and started walking off.

"Wha-" Luke pushed out of the truck and jogged to catch up to the boy. "Good. We're walking, I have an extra 3 hours to get you to speak."

"Jesus Christ, Luke. Just leave me alone."

"If you think I'm going to leave you alone right now, you must be stupid."

"I'm not a fucking invalid, Luke. Just because I'm a bit angry doesn't mean I'm going to slit my wrists."

"How would I know?" Luke demanded, trying to stay a step ahead of the boy, walking backwards so he'd be forced to look at him, "How would I know, Jess? I could let you leave and that would be the last time I see you."

Jess stopped, leaning up a tree and letting his head fall back and get stuck to the bark. "I hate this."

Luke waited, standing in front of him, adjusting his cap before putting hands in his pockets. "What happened, Jess? Do we need to change shrinks?"

"No. No." Jess reassured. "It's stupid. Its me."

Luke just waited for the boy – and it was easy to tell he was cracking from the way his hand immediately went to the hair on top of his head, and a small huff escaped his mouth.

"I had an 'assignment'" His words pitched at assignment – showing his indignation for the homework, "She told me to look in the mirror everyday and tell myself that I am valued. That I am worth something."

"And you couldn't do it."

"Yeah," Jess laughed humourlessly, "How pathetic right? I can't even tell myself that I mean something in this fucking world. I couldn't even get the words out."

Luke took some time before answering. He knew that what he was about to say could make the boy extremely uncomfortable, but he decided that it was necessary. "I do."

Jess snorted, slipping his head off of the tree, ignoring the way it pulled on the small hairs on the back of his head, "You do what?"

"I value you." Luke said, shrugging his shoulders in an ultimate show of nonchalance.

That threw Jess off. He stumbled forward at the declaration and didn't know what to do with himself. "You – uh – what?"

"Jess, you're my nephew. I don't say this enough, or at all, but of course I value you. You're the best thing to happen to this family in decades – you're the smartest Danes I've ever encountered and I am proud to be your Uncle."

Neither Uncle, nor Nephew, were particularly used to outright affection – the vulnerability that followed made them tenser than they ever felt keeping everything in.

But Luke knew that changes had to be made. If Jess honestly believed that he meant nothing – then it was up to Luke to change that.

"Even if right now you don't feel like yourself. Or you don't value yourself – or think you're worth any form of effort. I will always be here okay? I will always think the world of you as though you were my own son. If you ever doubt that, then I just want to come to me, okay? Come to me and I'll listen."

Jess didn't know what to do. He felt his fingers shake and his head shake and the tears he'd kept in start to fall. And suddenly he was wrapped in his Uncles arms while he sobbed into his shoulder and he wasn't sure how he had gotten there.

"One step at a time, Mate."


	13. Pride and Prejudice

Jess was digging through his duffel when Luke entered. Shaking the bag upside down, he dived through the items, throwing them to the side and muttering to himself as his clothes landed around him.

"Uh, Jess?"

He barely reacted. He grunted loudly at Luke's entrance, but continued to sort through his book for the second time since Luke had seen him.

"Everything alright?"

"Have you seen my notebook?" Jess' voice was muffled, now searching under the bed for the aforementioned item.

"Your red one?"

"Yeah, that's it."

Luke threw the paper bag on the dining table – full of sandwiches for the boy's lunch, and proceeded to start helping in Jess' scrambling search.

The apartment was a mess. Jess' books laying on every surface, or they, themselves, acting as a surface for a broken alarm clock and a stack of plates. Luke's knick-knacks being neglected, placed on the floor in replacement of other more considered 'important' items. A mix of both of their clothes were littering the floor and the cleaning products (bleach) were still left out from Luke's desperate cleaning session of Jess' unfortunate coined 'incident'.

"I'm assuming you haven't seen it then." Jess said, his voice pitched in unbridled and unfortunately obvious panic.

"No. Jess, I'm sorry. The last I remember was you writing in it."

Jess let out an uncharacteristic whimper as he fell back onto his bed and threw his arms over his face.

Luke froze – unsure how to deal with the boy's reaction. Jess breathed. He followed the steps that the therapist had given him – breathing in deeply, counting to ten, then letting out the breath. He followed this until he could feel his heart settle and his head return to it's normal chaos, rather than the constant banging of his frantic pulse.

"I can't remember the last time I used it." Jess admitted. "I'm struggling to remember a lot of little things recently actually."

"Should we be concerned about that?"

"No more than everything else." He answered honestly, "Jane – uh, I mean, the shrink. She said that memory loss is common with depr- with what I have."

"Right."

Luke watched as Jess rubbed his hand over his eyes, pushing into the sockets in what seemed like a painful force, his fingers twitching to reach out toward the boy, but also knowing that he should give him space. It was a difficult balance that he hadn't yet managed to perfect.

Jess slowly sat up. He back was hunched in an unnatural way – his head bent, and looking at his fingers like they were foreign to him. Luke quickly got control of his own second-guessing, and sat down next to the boy, rubbing his hand over his back in what he hoped was a reassuring, fatherly, gesture. He tried not to cringe as he felt the knobs of Jess' spine poking through his shirt – he still had a lot longer to go until he was back to a healthy weight.

"I think I'm going to speak to Liz."

Luke outrightly let his emotions show on his face. His mouth pulling back over his teeth in an obvious cringe. "You don't have to."

"I know." Jess reassured, "But I should, if only to explain this all to her."

"Well," Luke said slowly, tapping Jess one last time on the shoulder and standing up, collecting the clothes on the floor to throw into the wash and make the apartment more presentable. "Whatever you want, Jess."

Jess pulled himself fully onto the bed as Luke cleaned around him. He groaned at his own thoughts before he jumped to the side and slipped a book from it's perch on the bedside table and started reading as though he were doing so in a rebellious act. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was sat stiffly up on his bed, prepared to ignore the world until absolutely necessary.

Luke, however, had been feeling nervous and twitchy since the unspoken breakdown, and found the silence formidable. "Are you working with Andrew today?"

Jess had been patient in humouring him. "Yeah." He answered, flicking the page over and letting his eyes skim over the words without actually absorbing the story, "I missed a shift over the past few days."

Jess watched as Luke's shoulders tensed from his cleaning, his shirt pulling against his back – the casual mention of Jess' dip throwing the man off.

"Right. Yeah. Of course you did with the – you know – bed."

Jess scoffed. He pushed the book away from him, watching it bounce against the mattress, and huffed as he stood, throwing himself out of the bed. He let his bare feet slap against the wood and made his way to the bathroom.

As he passed Luke, he slapped him on the back – knocking a few socks from the man's weak grip. "Nice try, Luke." Jess said, "But that was still incredibly awkward."

The bathroom door shut behind him before Luke could fumble with a response.

Jess went down with Luke to the diner, picking up toast before his shift, and watched as Luke immediately began to get overwhelmed by the number of people eating there, and the frequent summoning of his name. He leant back against the counter and watched the chaos ensue.

When Taylor entered, Jess pulled a chair around behind the counter and sat back to watch the show.

"Luke?" Taylor's voice was loud and sure of himself – and Luke's eyebrow twitched at the first sign of him.

Taylor continued to repeat himself until eventually Luke turned on him with a very tight and punctuated, "What?!"

"You asked me to inform you the next time we held a meeting for the business community, and speaking for the Stars Hollow Business Association, we would like to extend the invitation to you in order to discuss important matters affecting the current profitability of the community."

"Say that again, Taylor. But simpler – as you can see, I'm busy and not listening."

Taylor huffed, throwing his hands up in the air and looking around at the customers as though he were put out for the few extra seconds of speaking.

"There will be a town meeting tonight regarding the business community."

"Great – why?"

"Reasons which I cannot divulge in front of the general public."

"Taylor – half of the people here are business owners in this community."

"Half is not all, is it now Luke? See you at the town hall from 6pm onwards."

"I'm still open at six, Taylor."

"Well, then you'll have to close like the rest of the business owners. See you then." Taylor left with a cheery wave and a sickeningly large grin.

Luke's eye began to twitch and Jess made the accurate decision to leave before he was on the receiving end of his uncle's frustration.

"Morning Jess," Andrew called from the back room. He quickly made his way to the entrance to greet the boy – his grin warm and welcoming. He slipped a pile of books from his hands onto the desk and began sorting through them.

Jess smiled, nodded, but didn't reply. He slipped off his jacket and hunt it up behind the counter.

"Back to fighting form?"

Jess cringed. "Yeah, sorry about that Andrew – it's been difficult."

Andrew waved off his apology, "No, no." He reassured, "Although, you might have customers seeking you out later."

Jess halted in his escape to the back room, "Uh, What? Why?"

Andrew laughed at his fumbling confusion, "People want your opinion, Jess. It seems my recommendations are no longer up to par."

"They want my opinion?"

"Of Course!" He replied joyfully, "You know what you're on about, Jess. People here are well aware of that."

Jess wasn't sure what to do with the compliment. His eyes crinkled, his brows furrowed, his head nodded, and he walked off to the back room to the sound of Andrew laughing gleefully behind him.

The shift was mainly how Andrew predicted. A lot of people were actively seeking Jess out as he attempted to quietly restock and rearrange the current shelves to selfishly favour his personal preferences. And his recommendations were an eclectic mix of genres and time-periods that he was sure surprised the residents of Stars Hollow.

"There's Bernard Cornwell everywhere – who is he and if he worth the fuss?" Brian Fuller – looking to expand his questionably nerdy repertoire had asked with a nervous disposition. Jess had learned he was one of the people living with Lane and almost laughed at the poor girl's fortune. Brian had approached Jess after much coaxing from Andrew, expecting the once trouble maker to laugh him out of the store – but he was, instead, met with an immediate answer and an enthusiastic explanation.

"He's historical fiction." Jess replied. "Very much deserving – have you read any historical stuff before?"

"Only in textbooks for school – and anything related to fantastical lore."

"Right," Jess said slowly, "If you're serious about giving him a go then I recommend reading 'The Winter King'. First in a trilogy and it's about King Arthur – so there's some fantastical elements with Merlin."

Brian had perked up at the mention of Merlin, and Jess instantly considered that a success.

Mr Lister came into the store, avoiding everyone else's eye and actively started an argument about poets trying their hand at literature.

"Everything they write is evidently lyrical – it's hard to focus it into the real world." He grumbled, fingering one Thomas Hardy's book of poems that Jess had manipulated to the second shelf down (note: the most commonly searched shelf).

"Bukowski." Jess retorted.

"What? A drunk whose poetry was gruff and depressing."

Jess withheld the bitter laugh he was tempted to spit in the man's' face, and instead marched to where he had recently placed the novel and pulled out 'Ham on Rye' and slapped it into the older man's hand. "Yes this is gruff." He admitted. "But it's also a hilariously realistic coming-of-age that is painfully realistic. Read this and tell me that poets cannot write fiction."

"What is wrong with all of these women?" A group of young women- probably around Jess' age, if not slightly older, were gathered around the young adult books and complaining loudly about 'Twilight' and the main character of Bella Swan. "This one!" She pointed violently at the second in the collection, "Her boyfriend breaks up with her so she sinks into depression and goes crazy? Not that great of a role model."

Jess didn't even say anything to the girls. He simply walked over with two books in hand. One; The Woman Who Walked Into Doors by Roddy Doyle, and Two: Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Both with strong women, one with a romance story. He slapped them in the opinionated girl's hands and walked away just as quickly.

He did, however, watch her read the blurb of each and then checkout with both, and an additional book by the second author.

He was, overall, having a good day. He felt like he was actually helping the people in the shop and couldn't help but smiling as he continued on with his work, despite knowing that the conversation with Liz was yet to come.

He was rearranging some of the books on the shelf (he was actually placing the greater literary genius of the novels to the forefront of the shop, and the tat further from prying eyes) when he spotted them. Rory and Dean, hand in hand – her chatting a mile a minute while he watched her with adoring and sickening eyes, far from any opinion of his own to be able to actually contribute to the conversation. Of course, that was just what he was assuming. Jess' gaze followed them for a few moments before he ducked behind one of the shelves and continued to look busy.

"Should they really be flaunting it already?"

The gruff, smoker's voice of Babette travelled through the shop despite her attempt at a whisper. Peaking over the shelf proved to Jess that her attention was also focused on the couple – along with a lot of people around the shop.

"Why shouldn't they?" A neighbour contributed, "Everyone already know what happened – it's not like they have any secrets to keep."

"It's a bit insensitive, don't you think?" Someone else piped up in a conspiratous (nee. failing) whisper, "I mean, has the divorce even gone through yet?"

Oh.

"No!" Babette responded gleefully, "They're still parading around in 'sin' – isn't it glorious?"

Oh, _Rory._

"Poor Lindsay. She had no idea."

Jesus Christ.

"Hey, Jess. I was wondering if you could help me with a recommendation?"

The gossipers of the shop seemed to realised their surroundings all at once. Jess suddenly found four pairs of eyes looking at him, all guilty, all regretful.

Jess cleared his throat, turned to Jackson, and nodded, guiding him down to the back of the store and away from the pitiful stares. "Sure, Jackson. What do you need today?"

Jess felt as though _someone_ should have warned him about that one.

The rest of his shift passed with a fluttering, vibrating, energy that seemed to grow. He was angry. He was angry and, _god,_ he was disappointed – he hated that. He felt gross thinking that he was disappointed like some kind of overbearing mother.

Oh, jeez. He was disappointed in her like Lorelai was. That was concerning.

Andrew had to close the shop early due to Taylor's sudden and urgent town meeting, and Jess was sent home to the dark diner – unlocked so that Jess could easily enter without having to reach and grapple for the key over the frame. He was looking forward to falling onto his bed after being on his feet all day – but of course he should have learnt that he never seemed to get what he wanted in this lifetime.

Liz was waiting for him when he got home. With everyone at the town hall for the impromptu meeting, he supposed it made sense for them to have this conversation with no eavesdroppers.

"So you're finally ready to talk to me?"

Jess had barely opened the door when she spoke. He froze, ready to turn around and just leave, but he knew he had to do this instead. He rested his forehead against the glass of the apartment door and took a few deep breaths against the cool surface before pushing the door open the rest of the way.

"Liz." he greeted with a nod, moving past her to grab a glass of water – not bothering to ask if she wanted anything. He gulped one glass down quickly before filling it up again and settling himself down next to her. He waited for her to speak first – knowing that it would only be a matter of moments.

"So," she started, and Jess curled his hands around the glass and looked up at her, "you didn't think to mention during our weekly phone calls that you were considering killing yourself?"

Jess shut his eyes and breathed in through his nose, his grip tightening on the glass. "I didn't know, myself, Liz. Its a bit more complicated than just deciding."

"You were fine at my wedding."

"I really wasn't."

Liz huffed, blowing a strand of her hair out of her face.

"So explain it to me, Jess. Explain to me why you did it." She nodded her head towards the whitening scars on his wrist.

Jess let his finger tips ghost over where he'd be marked for life, and decided on the right way to explain it to her.

"I was tired." he said eventually, "I _am_ tired."

"Tired of what? Life?"

"No, no. Just tired of feeling like this."

She obviously didn't know what to say to that, and Jess wasn't up for helping her. She seemed to appraise him, looking him up and down as though she were searching for the darkness outwardly that seemed to fill his mind.

"Is this my fault?" She asked slowly, her voice casual and sounding unconcerned despite the severity of the question, "Should I have not sent you here?"

"No, Liz." Jess venomously argued, "No. Being here – in Stars Hollow, jeez, this has probably been the best thing to happen to me in a long time." He admitted. It felt weird saying it out loud. Thinking back to his time at the school – judging the small-time teenagers for their flippant problems. His time at the diner, actively trying not to work. Pulling those stupid pranks just to make a pretty girl smile. God, it was frustrating – but he didn't feel like a nobody in Stars Hollow. He didn't feel invisible like he did in New York. "I feel like this was a long time coming."

"This is serious, isn't it?" She asked eventually.

"Yeah, Liz. It's the real deal."

She reached across the table to place her hand over his clenched fists. "I don't know what I'd be without you, Jess." She said. "I'm your mom. You gave me that identity."

"Liz – I'm not... I know that. But I'm not doing this to spite anyone – despite popular belief."

She nodded, "I get it." She said, "I've had thoughts like that. I've had that moment of – jeez, of hopelessness."

He wasn't all that surprised. She had a hard life, and her vein and all encompassing personality – good emotions and bad, meant that Jess had probably, unfortunately, adopted this helplessness from her. Rather than accuse, he instead asked, "How did you get through it?"

"I had you." She said simply.

He reacted to that, his head shooting up and looking her in the eye.

"I've been close – after a particularly bad time. And you know we've had a few." She rubbed her hand up his hand and over his wrist, her fingers moving over the bumps of his attempts – scarred out of life like his intent. "But I knew I had a responsibility – and I knew you would never forgive me. I knew that Luke would never forgive me."

God, there were days that he hated her – hated what she had done to him, how she never considered him in her romantic endeavours. Never allowed him to have any semblance of a childhood. And then there were moments where she'd prove that she had a motherly instinct that she barely ever let see the light.

"I need to go." He shot up, the chair behind him clattering to the ground and making Liz jump from the unexpected noise.

"I need to- uh." He stumbled away from her. "I'm sorry Liz – this is diffi-" he cut himself off, shaking his head and clenching his fists under his leather jacket. "I need to go."

He bolted from the room, leaving his mother spluttering in her chair as she watched her only son run from her – his eyes only filled with a disgust that she had unconsciously ingrained into him.

He ran, of course, toward the lake. It was his version of a safe haven. It was where if felt like each important instance in his his short time at Stars Hollow had happened. Peaceful, undisturbed, and often solitary.

As his luck would have it, in the instance he needed it, the place was already occupied.

He'd already run onto the rickety, wooden boards of the bridge and had, unfortunately, announced his arrival.

"I'm sorry, I'll – uh, I'll go."

"No. Jess, don't go." Rory tapped the space next to her with a smile that was, for all intents and purposes, friendly. Jess, however, approached warily.

He sat, cupped his fingers in his palm, and watched the reflection of the street lights flow with the moving water of the windy evening.

"Everything alright?" He asked first, his eyes unfocused and staring at the water.

"Why'd you ask?"

"You only come here to get away." He explained with a shrug following his words.

"Yeah." She said, confirming his suspicion, but avoiding his question. "You?"

"Yep."

That was all that needed to be said. It was coming up to half an hour of silence before one of them spoke again. Both staring. Both missing in their minds.

Both lost.

It wasn't, however, who either of them expected to speak up first.

"I just feel like screaming sometimes." Jess admitted. He was whispering, still looking ahead, and feeling twitchy under his vulnerable admition.

"Then scream." She said simply.

He let out a choked laughter and looked at Rory like she'd finally cracked. "What?"

Rory seemed to get a wicked grin on her face. She pulled her hands away from where they'd been stuffed in her pockets and used them to push herself up from the bridge and stand. She flicked up her hand, beckoning Jess to follow her in her upright position, and waited for him to do so before continuing.

"If you want to scream, then scream." She said once he'd wiped away the invisible flint from his trousers. "Everyone is at the town hall shouting at each other anyway – so scream. No one will hear you and it might make you feel better."

"Are you kidding?"

"No," she laughed, "Here, I'll do it first." She took a step back, as if she was convinced the force of her scream might knock him back. He stayed where he was, watching her with a cocked eyebrow and completely dubious.

She sucked in a deep breath and leant back – letting out a guttural and frankly frightening scream. Jess stepped back and couldn't help the hysterical laugh that was ripped out of him at her display.

She fell forward, leaning on her knees as she laughed along with him, breathless but feeling like she'd finally let something go. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, letting her hair fall in front of her face, smiling at his watery eyes and loud, all-encompassing smile that stretched across his whole face.

"Your turn."


	14. Dead Poets Society

With the sky a deep purple, wisps of clouds graying in front of the bright and vivid stars, Jess walked back through the town with a ghost of a grin on his face and a lightness to his movements. He felt like his body was thrumming with a nicotine high he scarcely felt anymore. He felt like his head was spinning as his thoughts circles around the clarity of the night and generated a symposium of plagiarized words from his opinioned genius' minds to summarise the evening.

Like a fog lifted from an asthmatic's world, he could breathe and he could see. He felt like he was ready to relish in his concentration, his sudden sharp mind, and dive back into the books he'd neglected in his murkiness – have opinions on their prose and share his discoveries.

He wasn't an optimist to believe the feeling of unshackled freedom would last, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try and bolt for the exit while he could see the rays of light shining through.

So he walked, embracing the chill, his hands buried in his pockets and contemplating his mother's confession, Rory's apparent unsettling need to scream along with him, and the resultant clarity of the world as though someone had just cleaned the looking glass, that had him halting in the streets at the uncommonly loud voices emanating from the dance hall.

The unexpected business meeting that had Stars Hollow deserted unusually early in the evening had apparently become heated – even more so that usual – and it seems his uncle was one of the main participants.

"Taylor," Luke's voice traveled, exasperated and frustrated, "Please tell me you are kidding."

"I think you'll find if you read section B, subsection C, sub-subsection ii, that I am not in fact 'kidding'. Any business owner must give every other business owner that they may directly or indirectly affect, at least two hours notice before any closure of business due to any domino effect on possible profits."

"That's ridiculous. Why would my closure affect your profits?"

"People may spot my shop across the road while they eating lunch at your establishment and be reminded of the food they need to buy – it's really that simple, Luke."

"What do you want from me, Taylor? Do you want me to reimburse lost profits? What?"

Jess slowly approached the hall, noting the gap in the door and leaning next to it so as to better hear the commotion. He silently judged himself for finding a Stars Hollow business meeting interesting enough to eavesdrop before tuning back into the words.

"Taylor, you're being unfair," Jess was surprised to hear Ms. Patty pip up, "We all know the only reason Luke has been forced to shut recently is due to emergencies."

"But he has yet to submit these so-called 'emergencies' to the correct associations. Explanations and proof are necessary and could be taken as simply taking leisure day – in which case that is a direct abuse of responsibility and steps for ramification need to be made."

"Taylor, you're mad." Andrew's voice flew from the gap, "Your vendetta against Luke is actually driving you insane. You, along with everyone else in this town _know_ the reason why."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Andrew, but unfortunately I still need an official response."

"Come on, Taylor," Lorelai said, her voice loud be sensitive, soothing, "You know that Jess had been sick – can't you just leave it at that?"

" _Ah"_ Jess thought, " _Once again."_

"Yes," Taylor grumbled, "Jess." His voice was snooty and growling with his obvious distaste.

"The boy has been an asset to this town since coming back, Taylor. He's more than made up for his teenage hoodlum-ism's." Ms. Patty scoffed.

"My sales have basically doubled since he started helping me at the shop," Andrew claimed loudly, his voice carrying over the whispering crowd.

"He's a smart boy," Babette's gruff voice echoed loudly, "being able to help Morey actually find a book he liked has meant I have some time without his wandering hands if you get my picture."

"I think everyone get's the picture, Babette." Lorelai snarked.

"If his being here means Luke's has to close earlier once in a while then I'm sure no one will mind the day without Lunch,"

"Well-"

Taylor was cut off as Ms. Patty grabbed hold of the Gavel and pushed the man to the side, "Those in favor of Luke closing his doors without the need for official notice, say 'Aye'."

The room was filled with affirmations.

"Those opposed?"

Taylor's solitary voice sounded out.

"That's settled, then." She slammed the Gavel. There was a resounding agreement proceeded by frustrated mutterings at Taylor's vendetta before the man himself was able to gather everyone's attention once again to proceed with the meeting – covering up his bruised ego.

Jess let his head fall against the wooden doors of the entrance and tried to comprehend what had happened – tried to figure out when and how he had managed to win over the crazy town. It was odd. He felt light and heavy all at once. Suddenly very proud along with his bewilderment. Who would have thought it'd only take scoffing at the choice of fiction to gain their respects?

The meeting came to a close and the unanimous scrape of chairs announced everyone's leave. Jess continued to wait outside the door, too late to pretend he wasn't there eavesdropping. He gave those who started at his appearance a tight-lipped smile and waited for his uncle to emerge with Lorelai in tow, nodding along to his gesticulating rant.

She nodded towards Jess when she spotted him and the boy lifted his hand in a mocking wave at Luke's instant cringe. He marched over to Jess and immediately demanded if he had heard what had happened.

Jess grinned and nodded.

Luke huffed and announced, "We hate Taylor."

"I gathered that."

"I'm allowed to refuse customers and we are going to start refusing Taylor."

"That's more trouble than it's worth, Luke." Lorelai said, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

"Good meeting then?" Jess' voice dripped with sarcasm and Luke was jolted by the reappearance of the quick wit. Jess got a cuff on the shoulder for his troubles.

"Now's not the time to be a smart-ass."

They reached the diner and Luke held the door open for both Jess and Lorelai. The former made a beeline for the book that he left resting on the counter in his return earlier that evening and began flicking through it with a newly found enthusiasm. He flicked on the coffee maker in his distraction and settled in to wait for it to brew, all the while ignoring Luke and Lorelai as they uttered their sweet goodbyes and muttering plans.

When Luke turned back to Jess, locking up behind Lorelai and watching her cross the road with a fleeting wave, he had to have a moment of pause. The young man was such a picture of his old self that it gave him a discomfiting moment of nostalgia.

Stood up, leaning on the counter – his elbows resting on the surface and the pages of the book inches from his face. He was hunched, his feet slightly crossed behind him causing his body to sway mindlessly under the precarious position. He was so engrossed that he barely reacted to his uncle's heavy footsteps towards the coffee machine, nor the clattering of china as he gathered a mug for the boy.

"Taylor is actually more selfish than I originally thought," Luke commented idly.

Jess hummed, flipping a page over in his book, "Want me to draw out another dead body?"

Luke surprised himself by laughing, "I thought you claimed ignorance on that one?"

"Well, the good ol' Doctor said I needed to start embracing my past." He looked up from his book, "And that was a stroke of genius – I'd be an idiot not to take credit."

Luke regarded the boy's relaxed and easy disposition and couldn't help but grin at the unexpected change. "The talk with Liz went well I'm assuming?"

"Uh, no?" Jess said haphazardly, "She gets it, but it kind of got too much. Its difficult for her to see fault in what she did, and understand the full extent of whatever is going on in my head."

" _I_ don't even understand what's going on in your head."

Jess scoffed, "Yeah, but you don't tell me I'm wrong when I explain it."

"I'm sorry, Jess."

"You didn't do anything," He shrugged.

If it wasn't a successful chat with his mother that had the shadow of Jess from two years ago gracing his dine, then Luke vaguely wondered why he was in such a good mood – but he chose not to question it.

Instead, Luke worked around Jess as he made himself a hot drink and sipped at the liquid as he dived headfirst into his book. His hair longer now, rugged and unkempt – not intentionally so anymore, and a dark stubble over his cheeks, his neck, his upper lip – Luke struggled to remember when the boy had started to look so much like a man.

The following morning claimed an early one for both Luke and Jess. Luke had to wake for early deliveries, and Jess – sleep being scarce and disturbed as of late – woke along with his uncle. It didn't take long for the two of them to complete the task, and with hours yet until official opening and the sun still only just rising in the horizon, they returned to the apartment for an easy and non-committal morning.

Luke busied himself with his stock count and outgoings, rarely having the time to check over what his accountant should reassure him of, and Jess continued on his sudden reading endeavors with Richard Yates and the image of a perfect America.

The boy was sat up in bed, a cup of tea clutched tightly in his hands, the sheets pulled around his waist. He's been sat there for some time, but Luke wasn't concerned. He'd been up reading for most of the morning, making short comments about a particular scene or character to his oblivious Uncle. They were both happily comfortable in the companionable quiet between them.

It was only when the noise of movement from the open window – airing out the living quarters of two men – disturbed their quiet that either of them made the decision to move.

Luke plucked the empty, but still warm mug that Jess had clutched in his hands out of the boys' fingertips and began washing the dishes of their easy breakfast, and Jess started to get ready for the day – diner work with Luke, then they had an afternoon appointment with the therapist. Jess had a feeling that she'd want to comment on his bolting from her office and wasn't looking forward to the results.

As Jess waited for the shower to heat up and for steam to start to rise – the sign of the scolding temperature he preferred, he appraised his appearance in the mirror, running a hand over his stubble covered cheeks.

Luke hadn't allowed anything sharp near Jess since the incident – he realized for good reason, but the bedraggled, homeless look didn't work too well for him. The stubble of his dregs of a beard was itchy and coarse against his skin and made his already unwieldy hair seem less intentional and more unkempt and dirty.

Jess was shocked away from his own inspection of his face with the realization that it was the first time he actually _cared_ about his appearance in months.

With his hand still rubbing up and down against his cheeks, he couldn't help the smile that ghosted against his face and he took in his reflection – he looked better. He felt better.

"Luke?" He shouted, pulling on his face to try and get a better look at the redness that had begun to form at the stubble irritation. He heard the pot bang from the kitchen and cringed visibly as he belatedly remembered the constant on-edge that Luke had been sporting the past few weeks. "I'm fine!" He reassured, slightly late, but still honorably.

It took Luke a few more moments to answer before his shout came through the door a little shakily, "What is it, Jess?"

"Is there any way I can shave?"

Luke shouted out of Jess' repetition before the boy simply ripped open the door, letting steam roll out from the room, and once again asked to shave.

"Shave?"

"I know you put everything away – and I get it. I get why, but I was wondering if I could shave? You could supervise if it'd make you feel more comfortable, but I just need this stubble gone."

"You want to get rid of your stubble?"

"Yes." Jess said slowly, elongating the word, "I that such a difficult thing to believe?"

"Thought you were fond of the rugged look."

"It's verging on homeless."

"Right." Luke nodded, turning around quickly in search of his wallet, "I'll just go out and get disposables from Doose's."

"What?" Jess asked at Luke's muttering, "You actually don't have any razors here? How do _you_ shave?"

"I shave at Lorelai's." He admitted with a shrug, picking up the wallet on the way out of the door.

Jess was dumbfounded. It took him a few moments to shake himself out of his stupor before he got in the quickly evaporating heat of the shower and had a quick wash.

Luke was back with the razors by the time Jess was finished.

"I'd feel better if I could watch, Jess." He said as he handed them over, moving his weight from one foot to the other and avoiding eye-contact.

"I get it, Luke. I haven't really given you much reason to trust me."

Luke grumbled, tempted to argue, but instead followed Jess back to the bathroom and watched as he ripped open the packet.

"What sparked this?" Luke struggled to feign nonchalance – trying to piece whether his good mood and sudden interest in beard all stemmed from the same source. With a slight sinking though, he honestly hoped that Rory wasn't the sole cause of all of this – she might have been good for him once, but Luke struggled to see how she was good for him now.

"I'm not sure if you've ever grown a beard – or if you were just born with yours, but it's itchy." Jess commented, fixing on the blades and pulling out the shaving foam from the medicine cabinet.

"And you're, of course, sensitive to that."

Jess rolled his eyes at his uncle, watching him from the mirror as he coated his face with the foam, "Hey," He complained, pointing the razor him, "my skin is the only sensitive thing about me, I'll have you know."

Luke laughed and Jess smirked, pulling on his face to start the shave. It was a weird, and honestly awkward, experience. Although both were aware why Luke had to stand there – for his own piece of mind, and slightly to quench and sick temptation Jess' mind might spark in his solitude, but it didn't make the situation any less of an odd one.

When he ducked down to wash his face, inspecting it for any stray hairs, Jess was finally able to see himself in the mirror and catch a glimpse of the person he used to be. He pulled both hands through his longer hair, pulling it into a wispy quiff, and Luke watched his nephew with a nostalgia he never thought he'd experience.

He tried to break it by clearing his throat, "Now that you're done hogging the bathroom – maybe you can help open up the diner while I actually get my chance."

Both men deemed to ignore Luke's voice breaking with slight emotion.

Jess rolled his eyes, sidestepping his uncle and let himself feel confident in his own appearance for the first time in a while – maybe things were looking up?

* * *

"How have you been feeling recently? Do you think the pills are agreeing with you?"

Jess deliberated, he played with the thread poking out from the sleeve of his gray jumper and tried to articulate the unexpected normalcy of the past few days.

"I've been good." He admitted after some time. "The only way I can really describe it is clarity, I suppose. I feel like a murkiness is gone."

"That's really good Jess. Do you feel like you're back to your old self?"

"No. Not quite." He hesitated, "I'm waiting for the other pin to drop."

"And it might." She admitted. "You're going to have ups and downs, but I want you to keep this feeling in your head – know that you're capable of feeling this way and returning to 'clarity' when you're in your worst moments."

"I feel like that may be easier said than done."

"You're right, but I have a feeling you don't shy away from a challenge."

Jess' smirk acted as the doctor's confirmation.

"On the same thread of remembering and cherishing moments for future hardships – do you think you'd be able to complete my homework for you?"

Jess' hand, reaching for his glass of water on the table, froze. He avoided her calculating eyes and cleared his throat, "I haven't made an attempt." he admitted.

"Has the last attempt affected your confidence?"

Jess drank the water, taking his time to swallow, and nodded.

"I want you to try again. " At the incredulousness on his face, she continued, "You're feeling clear and normal. If you manage this, there's a better chance of it staying with you."

"But surely it won't mean anything if I don't believe it."

The doctor nodded, considering, "Who do you value?"

"Excuse me?"

"Who do you value? Who do you respect? Who do you like or consider a friend?"

Jess didn't really know what to say. A strangled noise escaped him as he was put under pressure to come up with an answer.

"Your uncle, perhaps?" She prompted.

"Well, yeah? Luke didn't have to take me in – but he did."

"And why do you think he did?"

"Because we're family – its what you do."

The doctor hummed, "Not necessarily. Your mother is his family, and from the sound of things he wouldn't go that far for her."

"No. He would." Jess said with a certainty that rarely reared it's head, that's just Luke. He helps those important to him."

"Well," She said, leaning back in her chair and waving her hand haphazardly, "there we go."

"Huh?"

She grinned, tapping her pen on her notepad, "You're important to him, Jess."

"I-"

"You rang him after the first attempt, yes?" She cut him off, sure that she could shake his disbelief out of him.

She was referred to Jess' first attempt to kill himself. An event they barely ever acknowledged, and the frankly casual way she injected it into the conversation threw him off and seemed to wipe his mind of any argument altogether. So, instead, Jess nodded.

"Why?"

"Because he snapped me out of it."

"Why?" She pushed.

"I..." he hesitated, his voice quiet in his confusion – quiet opposed to the many thoughts trying to shout to him and answer, "I don't know."

Her smile turned sad, and she leaned forward on her knees, "Do you mind if I tell you what I think?"

Jess gestured for her to go ahead.

"I think he managed to snap you out of it because when he rang you, you on some level knew how much you meant to him. How much it would devastate him." She paused, her eyes skirting over his face, trying to get an impression of what he was feeling, "He values you." She said finally.

She continued before he had room to argue.

"You told me about Lorelai and her stark change in opinion of you – her confessing to you that she found you smart and loyal. Those are admirable traits and she'd probably consider herself honored to be considered in your loyalty. The town are valuing your recommendations, much like I am." She added personally, gesturing to her bag where the novel Jess had once recommended her was barely poking out of the top.

Jess couldn't help by smirk as he spotted it.

"Although, if you honestly think this is how all psychiatrists behave then I'm surprised you're still attending these meetings." She said, glad to inject some banter back into the conversation, knowing of Jess' tendency to stray away from the emotional.

"Thankfully, Jane, I'm quite capable of discerning fact from fiction."

She nodded, still grinning, "But you can see my point can't you Jess?" She prompted, returning them back to the conversation at hand before she lost control over the outcome, "The town value you – you've proven yourself to them. The woman who you claimed used to hate you – mother to what you once believed was the, as you put it, love you write stories about – she misjudged you. She appreciates you and therefore, Jess, she values you." She paused, letting it sink in, "And Luke – he values you probably more than you value anything else. There is still work to do – still people to prove yourself to, but you're not floating through life without any impact, Jess. These peoples lives have altered because of you – and positively, might I add."

Jess sat silently through her speech, trying to listen and absorb what she was saying – trying to believe what she was saying.

"Please stand up." She said eventually, and Jess followed the instruction without question. He walked to the mirror that he had run out of before. He stood in front of it and breathed.

"Now try again."

She was patient with him. Jess looked at his own reflection for a long time – getting used to his face again after so long of avoiding it – the beard and stubble gone and letting him see the effects of his malnutrition on his face – hallowed cheeks. Gaunt features. He was hit with the urge to change it. To fix it.

And clearly, without any argument of his confidence, he looked straight back into his own eyes and said the words he'd feared.

"I am valued."

The Doctor's smile was clear and wide in the reflection. "I want you to remember that Jess." She said, "You're feeling good now. You're feeling valued now. But we all have ups and downs, you may not feel like this forever. But, even if you don't _feel_ like it's true, remember that you _know_ it is true."

The session didn't last much longer than that. Jess exited the office with a smile and Luke couldn't help but smile back. On the drive back, the teenager was being open and uncharacteristically chatty, talking only of his passion of books, spieling on about Jane, the doctor, enjoying his recommendation; how he had to pick up another from Andrew before the man sold it on – nothing of his session or his stark change in mood, but Luke was still elated at any sign of conversation. Despite the traffic and diversion, still felt like the shortest trip back to Stars Hollow they had ever experienced.

Jess didn't even come into the diner with Luke, instead he waved and starting walking off to the bookshop that he'd been spending his time at – and look was happy to let him. He opened the door to the diner, letting his keys rattle in his hand, and jolted back at the sign of someone else in the establishment.

Luke was surprised to see Liz waiting at the counter. Glad that Jess had felt the need to seek out Andrew for a few books, Luke approached his sister and stood in his usual position of server to the customer.

She didn't waste any time in getting to the point, a rarity for the rambling woman.

"I think we're going to go." She said simply. Sure and confident of her words. Luke's complete lack of surprise was declaration enough to how little he had come to think of his sister.

He just shrugged.

"He's good here," she insisted, " he's getting the support he needs here – you both don't need me around, and I can't be here anymore and watch him ignore me and be in this state."

"Surprisingly, Liz, this isn't about you."

"I know that." She said flippantly, waving her hand as a visceral display of brushing off her problems, "Jess is fine here," she once again insisted, "and TJ and I have been away long enough – they might start forgetting about us soon."

Liz noticed her brother's disapproval. It was hard not to when he was leaning against the counter, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

"He's got more here than I could ever give him, Luke." She said, "He doesn't need me here. He needs you."

Luke's arms fell to his side.

"I've only ever made one good decision when it comes to that boy – and that was sending him to you. I know you'd have made a good of a uncle as you do a big brother – possibly even better."

"Liz-"

She cut him off, the smile of her face large and painfully bright in the otherwise somber mood. "TJ is waiting -" she slipped off the stool and grabbed a bag that Luke hadn't noticed from under her seat. "Tell Jess I said bye, okay?"

"Liz?"

She halted in her skip out of the diner.

"Ring him occasionally would you? He needs at least one of his parents to pretend to care about him."

She didn't turn to face him, but Luke watched as her shoulders slumped under the weight of her bag and she let her head fall in the slightest of nods.

"See you soon, big brother." She said as she left, the bell above the door ringing over her departure and leaving the diner smothered in a tempestuous quiet.


	15. The Unknown Masterpiece

With the 'con' of the pro-con list circled with increasing ferocity, Rory sat with her arms crossed and continued to stare down the subject of her temptation – sat unassuming in the center of the table.

She had even tried to manipulate her own list. Writing down pathetic excuses for its presence – and yet the con still won out.

 _Maybe he left it on purpose – he used to leave me books_

 _It might just be some book recommendations_

 _It probably has a return address – I should look._

 _I wonder if his handwriting is the same?_

She should just give it back. Or leave it somewhere obvious to find. What she shouldn't do is take the thing and read, memorize, obsess over every word.

The red notebook. Jess' red notebook. Discovered in the folds of the sofa, abandoned following his speedy packing after his brief stay at the Gilmore's'. She'd only ever seen him with it once in her stay in Stars Hollow before he inevitably lost it – but that one time was enough to pique her intrigue. He seemed so enamored, so enthralled by his own intense scribbling that Rory was certain the content was consuming and personal.

It was a rare window into the enigma that was Jess Mariano – and she wasn't prepared to let it slip through her fingers.

She, in a fit of adrenaline, ripped up her own list, making sure to obscure the incriminating 'con' decision she had conceded on – and dived for the notebook.

The edges were worn from where he'd fingered the pages in thought – the red curling and folding against itself, revealing part-words in his neat scrawl. Treated with the same stamp as he does any other book in his back pocket.

She took a breath, considered the consequences – losing whatever trust they had managed to create between them would be lost should he find out, and opened the book regardless.

It was a mess. Whole pages crossed through, uneven lines drawn under his writing where it quickly became bullet points. Arrows drawn and spanning pages – but it quickly became clear that this was a story.

 _Jess was writing a book._

The morning rush was over. Remnants of empty coffee cups, and dishes stacked in the sink to be washed up were evident of the residents of Stars Hollow rushing to Lukes' for their morning coffee and gossip pre their working day. Jess, arms deep in suds, was cleaning the dishes left over, stacking them next to him as Lane dried each one – ensuring to place them where Caesar could easily dish up. The sound of their small radio, pointed in their direction, entertained their work, allowing Lane to sway and Jess to mutter the lyrics under his breath, methodically doing his job.

An instrumental section of a particularly heavy rock ballad flowed through the room and Lane leant against the work surface, her dish towel sodden and carefully looked Jess over. He looked better – cleanly shaven face, putting on the weight he'd lost so much of, and wearing clothes that actually fit him – rather than drowned him. Yet it wasn't an image of the boy who left the town with scandal in his wake. More the man who'd grown to accept his faults.

"What?"

It was only then that Lane noticed Jess looking back at her, eyebrow raised and a twinkle of humour and snark evident in his face. She shook her head and quickly tried to come up with something to distract Jess from her embarrassment.

"So I've started dating Zac."

Jess looked taken aback momentarily, definitely not used to talking to Lane of all people about her personal life before he nodded and went back to the dishes.

"Nothing to say about it?" She asked, genuinely curious.

"Other than to be careful, no?"

"What do you mean?"

"He's a bit of a ladies man, isn't he?" Jess asked, casual but concerned, obviously trying his best not to overstep and hurt Lane's feelings.

"He was." She relented quickly, "But I've been told you were the same." She said, a small, sad grin on her face, "And that changed pretty drastically didn't it?"

Jess swallowed, his eyes on the dirtying dish water, and the stack of plates still left to clean. "Touche, Lane."

They were quiet for some time, continuing their work, before Lane found her voice once again. "Where did you end up going?" She asked, "After the first time."

"California." He answered simply, knowing she wouldn't be satisfied with the one-worded reply.

"Any reason for Cali? – you don't really seem like the sun bathing surfer to me."

"I'm a killer on the waves." He said in a monotone – sarcastic and unhelpful.

"Jess -" She stopped herself from pushing him. She cut herself off, tucked her chin in her neck and continued to dry the plates without meeting his eye.

Jess sighed. He could feel himself tensing up at the mere thought of admitting it, but he couldn't stand to keep her downtrodden. "My dad showed up." He admitted eventually. "Found me in Stars Hollow after 18 years – and I followed him."

She was quiet – he didn't really expect her to say anything. Lane was probably one person who'd been sheltered from that kind of drama the most of her life – he didn't expect her to really understand the reasoning. Didn't expect her to understand how that justified him leaving Rory behind.

"How come we never really spoke before?"

Her question shocked him. A dish slipped from his sudsy hands in back into the water, splashing the two of them in the now grimy liquid and forcing them both to wince at the sudden sensation. Lane laughed, wiping her face. Jess smirked, pulling a fresh towel from under the cupboard and wiping up the coated counter. But still she continued through her carefree chuckles, "We get along," She said, "I think it's clear we could have been friends – it would have made sense with Rory."

"Well, you said it -" He replied, pointing a sudsy finger at himself"-agoraphobic."

She laughed at the memory, before setting the dishtowel aside – noting a customer waiting for their order to be fulfilled. "Well," She said, wiping down her hands on her apron, "I'm glad that's no longer the case," before skipping out to act as the perfect waitress.

Jess was left with a dirty dish towel, once again wet serving dishes, drying up the splashed puddles on the floor, and a smile on his face.

Rory was overwhelmed. She had read it quickly – enraptured by the writing. Though in pieces – and obviously not refined, she was certain of his talent. Able to see his influences, but she was drinking in his own unique style. The desperation. The hopelessness. The outright despair.

It was beautiful.

And it was like the veil was lifted and she could finally understand Jess through the character he'd created. The old man with a lonely outlook.

As soon as her mother walked through the door in the evening, bubbly and starting in her usual upbeat rants – Rory knew she had to leave.

She stuffed his notebook – full of an amazingly rich world, into her luggage back to Yale. She knew she couldn't keep it, but she also knew she shouldn't have read it. But she wanted to keep reading. And re-reading. Until she memorized its every word – every inflection.

The issue with people knowing your business was that they kept asking you about it. The issue with people helping you out is that they expected something back from you. That's what Jess had always found through his life. It was always in the back of his mind whenever he'd meet someone knew. Don't give them what they want, and they won't end up ruining you.

He'd made a few exceptions in his life.

Some were successes.

Some weren't.

But when he'd chosen to help out Luke with a full shift at the diner, ignoring the way his uncle would cringe whenever he saw Jess and back out the room guiltily – Jess was sure that'd come to light soon enough – he was reminded of his rule.

He'd spent the day skirting around invasive questions from town folk who thought they had a right to his business.

" _How are you doing there, Jess?"; "If those scars start bothering you, I have the best lotion for their itching..."; "I been a bit down before – I can understand."_

His whole body was aching by the end of the day. His shoulders up to his ears as he tried to keep in every snarky comment. He wanted to go upstairs and have a long, hot shower – maybe massaging his own shoulders and going to bed early while congratulating himself for not snapping at anybody that day.

That's what he wanted to do.

So Luke, obviously, chose that moment to _finally_ confront his own guilt.

"Jess?"

Jess held back an audible grown, he was just ready to leave the diner, push past the curtains and run up the stairs to claim the shower for the next hour.

"Can I speak to you for a moment, Jess?" Luke leant against the doorway, his hands ringing together and effectively blocking Jess' only chance of escape.

He let his shoulders fall and sunk against the counter, "Sure Luke, what's up?"

"It's about Liz."

"What about Liz?" Jess asked, no ounce of concern in his tone – exasperation of a boy tired echoing over his features.

Luke continued on with only slight hesitation, "She left. Yesterday. I was going to tell you sooner – but I didn't want to ruin anything or make you feel like it was your fault or anything -"

Jess shrugged – the movement stopping Luke in his rambles.

"You're not bothered?"

"It's not that," Jess said, "I just kind of expected it."

Luke's heart seemed to fall right out of his chest and he was forced to confront the sullen image of Jess' childhood such that he'd expect his own mother to leave him in such a vulnerable place.

"Jess -"

"Don't fret about it, Luke." Jess insisted with a nonchalance that only made Luke's mind reel. How many times had he insisted on Jess seeing, contacting, appeasing his mother?

"Is that all?" Jess asked, and Luke was forced to nod and step away in his shock, letting Jess slip through the curtain and run up the stairs two steps at a time. It wasn't how he expected the conversation to go – but then when did anything with Jess go the way he expected.

The streets were darkening as she wandered around slowly. Streetlights following her directionless stroll and flickering on without any rush or desperate need. She was lost in her own mind – showing flashes generated from her own imagination – triggered by Jess' words. Down to her own experience with him, and perhaps her harsh and unfathomable expectations that she placed on his head.

It had all become so clear so quickly, and Rory couldn't help the sinking feeling that followed her through the streets of Stars Hollow, and pushed herself further forward – as though running away from that sensation. Adrift and lost in her mind. Only coming starkly back to reality with the shout of the author of her realizations.

"Jess -" Luke's voice echoed through the square. He was calling after the boy who was falling out of the diner with a stumbling rush, tripping over his feet and twisting around to shout back to his uncle.

"Give me time Luke." His voice was gruff and obviously dripping with anger, "Just give me a moment would you?" And he stormed away, ignoring the quick glances and whispers that followed him.

She didn't even think before she veered off her directionless path and followed him.

He should stop going there. He should stop finding himself at the bridge every time he wanted some quiet. But still, as he settled down, he could already feel his mind clearing.

She turned up not soon after he'd laid down, head resting in palms and the sound of his breathing and light humming along with the lapping of water. She didn't say anything – Jess was thankful, but he couldn't help the small smile that seemed to fall on his face around her presence – no matter how infuriating he found her at times.

They sat there for some time. Quiet in their contemplation. Jess was fingering the phone number Luke had given him gravely, contemplating the call that would follow his leap of faith. Rory was quietly stewing in her guilt, and awe, at her own discovery of Jess' talent.

"Jimmy called." He said eventually, opening his eyes and looking up at her from his prone position – laid on the damp wooden bridge, his legs kicking back and forth against the beat of the lake, "My Dad."

Rory didn't reply, but he saw her nod. She looked at the piece of paper held in his fingers, back at his face where she made eye contact, then she quickly looked away.

"I don't know whether I should call him."

Rory didn't know what to say. She watched him fiddle with the number, running his thumb over the sharp indentation on the paper. So, instead, she just asked what she'd desperate to know. "How long did you stay with him? You know, when you left?"

He sat up, leaning on his elbows and considered her curiosity, kicking his feet back and forth – just skimming the water. "It wasn't long – just about 3 months."

"And you hadn't met him before then?"

Jess shook his head with a resounding negative.

Rory didn't say anything. And it was like that way for some time. Jess was kept the number between his fingers – looking at it, then back at the water. Rory had taken out a book some time ago, letting Jess contemplate while she kept him company. She wasn't really sure why she stayed, but she felt she owed it to him.

Jess' mind, however, was chaotic. Flitting from his current problem – the man he'd spent a couple months of his life with. To the more glaring problem of his health and his shrink's warnings. He'd been forced to think more about his past recently – and he wasn't sure whether he particularly wanted to revisit it.

"I'm not a happy person at all." He said eventually. The quiet of the night settling around them, the lapping of the water, the rustle of the wind, and then Jess, admitting something that he'd never considered before.

She didn't say anything. He could have been speaking to himself, if it weren't for the short, sharp intake of breath that proved to him that she had heard him.

"I've never considered myself happy." He continued, "I don't even know if I ever can be."

"Jess –" her voice was quiet, questioning. She wanted to know if he wanted her input, but to her query, he simply shook his head. It took him a few more minutes to speak up again, but Rory waited patiently.

"There would be times in New York. Liz would have passed out on the couch for some reason or another, and I would steal her cigarettes, and a few beers from the fridge. There was this fire escape on the apartment next to us. If you jumped from the window sill you could reach it, and it went right up to the roof." He smiled down at the reflection of Rory in the water. She was watching him as he spoke, but he only gave himself the moment of looking at her mirror image. Not her. "So I would grab the beer, and the cigarettes, and I would scale that fire escape right to the top. Then I would have the roof of this apartment to myself, and the uninterrupted sky. It was never quiet. It was never like this – sirens, music, shouting. I'd get buzzed on the nicotine, the alcohol. I thought that was my happy place. I think, at most, I was at peace."

"Where's your happy place now?"

"I'm not sure. The stars I used to be in awe of in New York pale in comparison to these skies." He glanced up as he said this, looking at the great expanse of the uninterrupted sky. "I haven't quite found a replacement," he admitted, pulling the neglected cigarette to his lips and breathing in, letting the smoke billow out. He leant back on his elbows, letting his head fall back so that he could take in the full appreciation of the sky. He felt Rory follow him, and saw from the corner of his eye, her own sight drift from Jess' profile to the night, "but I'd say this comes pretty close."

"Jess I -"

"I don't mean you." He said quickly, "I don't want you to think I'm trapping you into something again." He reassured, "I'm sorry I did that, by the way – I haven't apologized for that yet."

"You weren't tapping me – I -You don't have to apologize for it." She replied, her voice quiet and small in comparison to his uncommonly confident rambling.

"I mean here. Luke, I suppose – knowing I have someone to fall back on."

"I'm sorry you felt like you didn't have that before."

"That's a can of worms you _really_ don't want to open, Rory."

She turned back so she was looking at the sky, biting her lips to keep from saying something inevitably stupid – something to ruin whatever moment they'd found themselves in.

"Are you staying for much longer?"

"Oh," She started to sit up, pulling her legs back onto the bridge, "I'm sorry, I can go. I -"

Jess' laughter stopped her hurried apologies. "No, Rory. I mean in Stars Hollow – Yales'-a-waiting isn't it?"

She, feeling silly, let her legs stop back down with a nervous chuckle, "Yeah, I suppose." She said. "I should go back and see if Paris has gone mad yet."

"Paris?"

"You remember Paris?"

"Oh – I remember Paris. What I'm wondering is why she's still in this story."

Rory smiled, tipping her head back dramatically. "I live with her."

Jess snorted. "Oh Man, I'm sorry."

Rory laughed out that. Outright. Loud and ugly. Jess followed soon after and soon they were both on the bridge, smiles on their faces and their stomachs hurting.

"Thanks," Jess said with a confidence he'd thought he'd lost.

Rory, showing her shock in a second of weakness, just seemed to shake, "Jess. It's – it's fine." She reassured, "I've uh," the girl hesitated, looking down at her hands and pulling at her nails, "I've not been myself recently." She said, "So I suppose – thanks for not really commenting?"

"I've been trying to figure it out before commenting."

"Well -" She cleared her throat, "Tell me if you do because I'm completely lost here."

"Yeah," Jess chuckled, "Yeah, I'll do that."

Jess pulled his feet back up onto the dock, wiping the debris off of his jeans, standing up and ready to leave. He shoved his hands into his pockets of his jacket, pulling it closer towards him in his layers. Before he could leave though, Rory asked one more question.

"Are you going to call him?"

Jess shrugged, his hands pulling into fists, hidden in the pockets, and ringing them around the piece of paper that was close to being ripped to shreds with his fiddling.

"That's one more thing for me to figure out I guess."

Rory grinned, turning her back on Jess' retreating figure.

 _Jess was writing a book._


	16. On the Road

It was a Sunday. Jess didn't need to get out of bed right away, nor would anyone question his lying in. It was ideal really, a perfect day for it. As when he woke up, he felt that dreading pull. The slow and aching choke of devastation that tugged insistently – it felt like there was a stone on the end of a string, choking his throat with inexplicable dread and pulling the dark curtains around his mind.

He was warned of its return, but he didn't realize how utterly fed up he'd be at the feeling – how familiar it had become. It was a blessing, in reality, that he could identify it as being the rearing of his illness' ugly head.

That's why he remained in bed – his eyes open and glaring at the ceiling.

He didn't want this.

He didn't want to wallow. He didn't want to fall back into it.

He was determined to fight it – starve the depression of its very power and force it to run away – not the other way around.

He growled as he got dressed. Cussing, swearing, grunting and aggressively tugging on his jeans and ripping his jacket onto his arms. He dressed dark – pulling on his trusty leather jacket, the item that had kept him warm quite literally in so many homeless nights, and he stomped down the stairs of the diner – the scowl on his face, book in his pocket, and cigarettes held in his hand.

He pushed through the curtains to the exit, ignoring the yelps from startled patrons, and continued his mission out of the diner.

Luke didn't react – he watched Jess leave and made the wise decision to talk to him about it later. Jess was on a mission, and Luke wasn't about to get in his way. He did watch, however, as Jess marched his way to the bus stop, lighting a cigarette on the way – managing to finish it in time for boarding the next bus to Hartford.

His books were still at the diner.

He wasn't leaving – he wouldn't leave his books behind.

Luke carried on his day – ignoring the questions and trusting his nephew.

It was a fight against his own mind to lose himself in his book like he was once able to. It was a fight against something that seemed to block everything he _wanted_ to feel. He found himself staring at the words rather than reading them, and had to visibly shake himself out of it – forcing focus on each individual word in the book until he could effectively string the sentence together in his head, sewing the image of the story into his imagination with one arduous phrase after another.

It was the announcement of another stop on the journey, jostling people out of their seats and juggling them through the crowds until the escaped the stuffy bus that triggered his reawakening to reality. He followed the crowd – an act his often loathed to do – and found himself walking with the majority until they dispersed to singulars in their many.

It was there that he found a moment to breathe. Led to an artisan area of the upper-class town – he spotted a record store and found himself naturally gravitating towards it. If a bookstore was his peace – then a record store was his conflict.

No one greeted him. There was just a nod from the textured, tattooed older lady from behind the counter and Jess was let alone to roam to surprisingly light and open shop. Record players lined the sides so he could test and listen. Genres were forgone, and it was more of a blind date with music that would fill his day.

He couldn't think of anything better.

Back in the diner, Luke feigned nonchalance over Jess' impromptu exit, but anyone watching would understand why he was excessively wiping one spot on the counter. It's why Luke jumped when Lorelai's voice suddenly invaded his sense.

"So, you're going to hate this – but I've already agreed on your behalf so there is no getting out of it." Lorelai bounced into the diner, her purse being thrown onto the counter in a flurry of extravagance, and let a smile fall across her features in an easy and obviously flirtatious manner.

Luke froze mid-action and seemed to take a second to restart his brain before slowly letting one vowel escape. "Uh..."

"We're going on a double date tonight -"

Luke groaned.

"That's not even the worst part." She continued, a twinkle in her voice to showed how entertaining she found it, "We're going on a double date with Rory and Dean."

The groan turned violent. "Why? You're looking for a particularly awkward evening or what?"

"Come on Luke! She doesn't believe me when I say I'm okay with the two of them – I want to prove it to her."

"So you are okay with the two of them?"

"Huh?"

"You're okay with Rory being with Dean again?"

"Of Course! She can make her own decisions. I'll support her no matter what."

"Okay. But I'm still uncomfortable with it."

"So you'll come yes?"

"Don't pretend like I have a choice here-"

"Great! We'll meet you here at 7."

Luke kind of wished he was where ever Jess was in that instant.

With his head tilted back against the chair, the ridiculously larger headphones over his ears, and the nostalgic sound of Bowie through his ears, Jess neglected to sense anyone approaching until there was a tap on his shoulder and he was fumbling stupidly for escape.

There was the gruff laugh of someone who'd been smoking their whole life behind him when he eventually got free of the headphones.

"Bowie huh? I fully expected Rage Against the Machine with how you stomped in here." It was the woman from behind the counter, seemingly bored and curious.

"Bowie holds a memory -" Jess explained unnecessarily. Thinking back to his one shared moment with his father.

"Ah," She said, sitting on the chair opposite him, "An escape, huh?"

"Sure..." Jess let the word elongate, waiting for her to explain her interruption.

When, instead, the old woman reached for the second pair of headphones, connected to the same record player he was connected to, Jess followed her lead and replugged himself – letting the music wash over the two of them.

They listened to a few songs together, not sharing words, but sharing lyrics.

She eventually knocked off the dial and got his attention back. "He's come in here before, you know?"

"Huh?"

"Bowie."

"What? Bullshit" Jess instantly responded, before catching himself and apologizing.

The old woman laughed, her head thrown back as her dyed red hair with gray roots shone under the bright lights. "You don't have to apologize for shit in here." She chortled, letting Jess choke on his manners. "I'll prove it – come on."

Jess was led behind the counter where the woman produced an album full of pictures. Polaroids of her with various famous artists – some he had absolutely no clue about, but still nodded along to her stories, some he was in absolute awe of. The album held autographs, trinkets taped in, stamps and postcards – each with their own story and background.

When she had finally patted the back of the album, signaling its end – the light of the afternoon seeping to a coolness of evening, Jess pulled back and thanked her.

"I needed something like that."

"I know you did, hon – that's why I showed it to you."

"I – uh – what?"

"I know the look of a broken artist. A lot of those people in that book came in here with the same look on their face – when something is attacking their soul – be it the world, their mind, whatever. That's what music is for. That's what art is for – an escape. You look like you needed it." She said the words with an airy smile, but a certainty that told Jess she meant every word.

He said his leave, thanking her again, and got quickly back on the bus back to Stars Hollow.

A broken artist. He liked that idea.

He returned to the apartment to Luke putting on a blazer and brushing his hair back after being in a cap all day.

"Are you going to a wedding?"

"No – I." Luke grumbled, "I'm not going to a wedding – Jeez. I've got a date."

"You look that nice to all your dates?"

"Shut up Jess."

Jess saluted his uncle with a smirk on his face and dove into his pile of books, looking for one he'd been craving on the bus journey back.

"Good day?" Luke asked.

"Interesting." Jess responded, "Definitely interesting." He said, cheering once he'd found his book and making his way to his most comfortable spot in the flat.

Luke didn't push, and Jess was thankful for it, only teasing him once more when he left the apartment to go and meeting Lorelai for their date.

The cigarette dangled loosely in his hand, the stick hanging outside as he sat on the window-sill, his knees crouched up to his face and the book he was reading resting carefully on his knees. The air was cold as it drifted in through the window, and the silence of the street made it feel like each page he turned echoed through the town.

When he had first gotten to Stars Hollow, the town that would have made Richard Yates cry, he found the silence of night unnerving. Usually, silence meant trouble in New York. When it was quiet, you knew there was something to fear. It was difficult readjusting and once again becoming comfortable to the complete lack of noise, and with it lack of drama, intrigue, or scandal. In its place was just a whole lot of mundanity and quiet.

Sitting there, watching as the late-night stragglers returned home to their abodes at, _gasp,_ nine-thirty in the evening, Jess concluded that the town was, admittedly, a whack-job, but it did offer the perfect setting for his preferred escapism.

Turning back to his vehicle of choice to somewhere far from where he was, he pulled the cigarette to his lips and inhaled sharply and deeply, letting his hand dart back out of the window to dispose of the ash he'd created in its wake. He let the smoke out carefully, letting it dance from his lips as his tongue ran over his teeth to savour the taste and his eyes slipped over the page to savour the words.

Tolstoy spoke to him, and already covered in his own notes, Jess felt like the book was reading him rather than the other way around.

He'd reached the ninth chapter, reading intently as he lazily danced the cigarette through his fingers;

 _The place where she stood seemed to him a holy shrine, unapproachable, and there was one moment when he was almost retreating, so overwhelmed was he with terror. He had to make an effort to master himself, and to remind himself that people of all sorts were moving about her, and that he too might come there to skate. –_

With the ring of the diner bell below and the bellowing of laughs, the image faded from his mind and Jess was sucked back into reality by the sound of _her_ voice. The changing enigma in a town that seemed to never age.

"So you've never seen it?"

"Pippi Longstockings? Why would I _ever_ willingly see Pippi Longstockings?" Luke replied.

"You shouldn't have asked that -" Dean quipped, ignoring Luke's responsive grumblings.

"How could you even ask that?" Lorelai bounced in.

"Was coffee a really good idea?"

"Have you forgotten who you're speaking to, Luke."

"Oh, Joy." Their voices began to trail off, and Jess watched from his perch as the four of them began to walk slowly across the quarter. The men of the group standing as far away from each other as they possibly could – Jess could feel the tension. Luke was dressed up, as were the women in their almost Friday Night Dinner posh wears getting thrown around them as the cool wind seemed to pick up. Lorelai continued forward, leading the group in a bounce as she continued the conversation with her daughter with frankly unfathomable enthusiasm.

Jess brought the cigarette to his lips, the pencil whose home usually sat behind his ear, taking the place of his smoking appendage between his fingers, all done as a matter of subconscious as his eyes drifted from the elder Gilmore to the younger.

His eyes met blue and he caught himself startling back slightly at the connection before quickly letting the smirk he knew frustrated her fall onto his cigarette-filled lips. He raised the hand which wielded the pencil up in a slight wave of acknowledgment, inwardly beaming when he saw her falter at being actively caught looking from over her shoulder. When she smiled back at him, the sight as clear to him as if she were standing a foot away, and lifted her hand in just a slight a wave, his smirk may have become more of a grin.

She turned quickly around, gripping hold of Dean's arm and pulling him quicker down the streets and toward the cinema and out of sight.

Letting his head fall back roughly, the pain of the wall sending a jolt through his system and a groan leaving his mouth at his idiocy – the smoke billowing out with it, he turned back to the book and almost laughed.

 _He walked down, for a long while avoiding looking at her as at the sun, but seeing her, as one does the sun, without looking._

He underlined the passage until lines bled graphite over the page and crumbs obscured words.

And it was with that jolt. With that pathetic symbolism and Tolstoy uttering his depressing words in his ear that Jess made the decision. He stubbed out his cigarette, throwing the stub into the makeshift ash tray of a glass.

It was a conversation that had taken him a whole day of solitude to build up to. It was one that was confining and restrictive – he knew that going in to it. So, rather than make it worse on his already overpowered nerves, he dragged the phone over to the window. The frame rattled as he settled back on his perch, a leg dangling over the edge, the other securely inside the apartment – a position he took many a time during his last lifetime in the town. He could feel the breeze rushing around the corner. He could hear the shrill tones of the townsfolk, but not their words – not could they hear his. The bell of the still open diner – manned by Lane and Caesar in Luke's absence, an occasional familiar tune to sooth his thoughts.

He unfolded the piece of paper that had been crumpled, felt, thumbed, through his thoughtful day, and careful put the numbers into the phone and waited for the dull rings.

He pulled out a fresh cigarette ready in his fingers, rolling around them, soothing and comforting – and a book prepared for if the sudden and intense require to _run_ came over to him. It would act as his own form of escapism.

Jess was a little unprepared when Lily answered.

"Isn't it a bit late?"

"Jess?"

"Hey, Lils,"

"Did you forget about the time zones?"

"Oh – uh – probably."

Her twinkling laugh calmed him. No matter how little time he spent there – Jess was envious, but also kind of proud of the little girl who was growing up with the father he should have had. She went off on a rambling tangent quite quickly. Telling Jess about her school work – the books she was reading, the weird people she'd met at Jimmy's Hotdog stand.

"Jimmy said you're sick, Jess. Are you sick? Are you feeling any better? I had a stomach bug a few week ago and that was awful -"

"It's not that kind of sickness, Lils."

"Oh – but you are sick?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose I am."

"Oh. Oh – okay. Jimmy just walked in – it's was nice speaking to you, Jess."

"You too, Lils."

There was a fumble on their side of the line before Jimmy's breathless voice greeted him down the line.

"Hey." Jess replied, leaning back against the window sill and squeezing his eyes shut in preparation for the conversation.

"Why didn't you call? Why didn't you say anything? I had to hear from Liz – after she had a few choice words to input about me first, let me add."

"I've got it under control."

"You tried to kill yourself Jess."

Jess winced, but didn't let himself audibly react. "Luke and I have it under control."

"What are you doing about it?"

"I've got medication – I'm going to therapy. I'm not better. I'm no where near normal, but it's working. It's slowly doing what it should be doing – it's under control."

"Therapy?"

"Yes. But don't worry Jimmy – my dad abandoning hasn't actually come up yet."

The silence on the end of the line said it all.

"You don't have to worry about me Jimmy. I'm an adult – you only met me as an adult – you have no responsibility to follow up on me. I'll keep you updated on my life if that's what you want, but I won't ask anything else of you."

"I wasn't – I'm not. Jess, I was just worried – I want to help where I can."

"You won't help."

"Jess-"

"No. I don't mean that in a malicious way. I don't mean it that way at all. But it's true. You won't be able to help me Jimmy – you're a stranger. Luke is helping in every possible way and that's all I need."

Jimmy was quiet for some time. Jess let him be quiet. Just the sounds of their breathing going back and forth as Jess looked over the darkening town as it dipped into the late evening.

"Well, I'm glad you're getting the help you need, Jess."

"Thanks."

"I know Lily would like to hear from you more, so if you're ever bored-"

"I'll call."

"Good – great. Uh, I'll, uh – speak soon."

"Bye Jimmy."

"Yep."

The dial tone rang out and the flat above the stairs had never seemed so quiet. But he felt relaxed. He felt so at ease that he wasn't really sure what to do with himself.

Jess put the phone down, grabbed the book from next to him, and reached to light up the cigarette – breathing in deeply and letting a smile fall easily onto his lips. He felt like he'd just let something big off of his chest. He felt the same in that moment as he did after telling that short-haired, angry, running, ranting love of his life his feelings for the first time.

All he'd done was tell his father that he was a stranger to him. He'd told his father that he didn't need him after all of those years.

God, it felt good.

It was like an odd juxtaposition of whimsical, freeing melancholy.

He felt so _alive._


	17. Howl, Kaddish, and Other Poems

She could breathe again. The trees littering the campus, the smell of books that seemed to stick to the bricks in the walls, and the coffee that kept these hard working students awake throughout their studies followed the population. It was like she was in heaven.

Actually, it was more like she had reset.

Which is why, mere moments after she had unpacked her bag – the red notebook that was decidedly not hers sat guiltily on her pillow, she had a sudden shiver through her body that forced her back away from the bed and into her desk chair.

God, she was so embarrassed.

She wouldn't be surprised if Jess never spoke to her again. She wouldn't be surprised if he hated her. There she was, belittling his illness, parading Dean in front of him, stealing his work from him – she was cruel.

And yet...

She dived back for the notepad, her heart skipping at the familiar handwriting carefully placed on each page, like he was respecting each word he envisioned. They were carefully chosen, even if the story jumbled together in one seemingly rambling mess. It was very Kerouac. It was very Joyce. It was very Jess.

She worshiped the story.

Bleak. Dark. But woven into it's very essence was a thread of light to get you through. Positive words and hopeful phrases. She could probably recite the entire tale to you in one impassioned monologue. It was a perfect example of whatever he was feeling, and since reading it she had the very pressing need to apologize for every sheltered ignorance she put on him.

The book. The unfinished, barely a book – book. It made her feel alive, and it made her feel wicked.

And on top of all of that, she was late to her next class – questionable intentions would have to wait.

* * *

Andrew's bookshop was as busy as ever – which actually meant that the hype around the town of the teenage rebel Jess Mariano was working there had died down, and instead Jess was back to arguing with patrons about their versions of boring literature. This mainly boiled down to him defending Kerouac's drawling prose, and backing the corner of Hemingway too many times to count – he was blaming Gilmore's influence on the town for that one.

He was back stocking shelves, having been exiled for getting into a particularly heated discussion with Jackson. He found the work methodical – it allowed him an escape that he relished in.

Luke continued to fret and hover. His eyes had widened particularly wide after seeing Jess on the window sill after his double date. Jess pretended to ignore his entrance, but did throw his leg back into the building to appease him.

Lorelai continued to mother him. She kept watching him with a close eye and mentioning fattening foods that he should definitely try while telling him comedic anecdotes of her life just to get him to smile.

Lane was asking for advice. Thankfully not around her love life – but actually around the tour that her band were seeking to go on, with surprising help from her own mother.

Rory was gone. She was back at Yale – where she should be. Studying to the point of exhaustion and working towards that dream that seemed like a fairytale once when they drove under the stars towards the prospect of icecream in a cone.

He was getting comfortable. He was settling down.

But occasionally he wanted to get a glimpse into the world he had created in his mind. His red notebook, he had decided, was missing – but there was a story in there that he continued to flesh out in his mind whenever he possibly could. Andrew's offered that unique perspective.

"He'd know what to choose – that's what he does best." Andrew's voice echoed over the shelves as Jess stocked and priced the books.

"That's not really an option, Andrew."

"You want a good gift, go to the master. He has this unique ability to know exactly what you're looking for."

"Look, Andrew, I appreciate it but -"

"Jess?" Andrew called over the shelves. Jess wiped his hands of dust on his jeans and made his way around to the front of the shop without any qualms.

"Yep?" He turned to corner and finally looked up to see the towering, lanky, awkward form of Dean. He looked incredibly uncomfortable, and quickly began to try and make an excuse to leave when Andrew interrupted him.

"Dean's looking for a gift for Rory." He explained, a smirk on his face that suggested to Jess that he knew exactly what he was doing. "I thought you could help him out?"

"Always the giver there Andrew." Jess snarked, stuffing his hands into his deep pockets and rocking on his heels, staring only at Andrew and refusing to give Dean a second glance.

"You know me well, Jess." He quipped back. "I'll leave you two to it – I'll finish off the stock." And he left quickly after that leaving Jess to serve Dean as a customer.

"So." Jess started, finally looking at the man who was obviously red with anger or embarrassment – Jess couldn't tell. "A gift for Rory."

"Look, this was a bad idea – I'll just." He started to turn to leave. But Jess wasn't going to let this chance slip from between his fingers.

"I wouldn't say that." He said loudly, cutting in, "It's cool Dean. I can help – just tell me what the gift is for."

"You'll help?"

"Sure. That's my job." He shrugged. "So, occasion?"

"No occasion really – just a surprise gift" Dean explained, following Jess as he weaved between the shelves, trying to find the exact book he was looking for.

"Nice – no frilly romance necessary then." He replied, his best customer-facing voice on while internally he was smirking with glee.

Dean was quiet as Jess surveyed the books. He knew exactly where he was going, but was trying to keep up some semblance of facade. He only let it go on for a moment before reaching down and choosing just the volume he wanted. "This will be perfect." He said, handing it to him.

Dean looked at it, front the back, turning it over in his hand. "Really?"

"It's one of her favorites – trust me Dean. She'll want a blank, fresh copy."

Dean seemed to get that constipated look on his face again, but nodded and followed Jess back to the cash register. As he was ringing up the order, taking the cash from Deans hand and fiddling with his change, Dean finally piped up.

"I wanted to apologize, by the way."

"Uh-"

"For what happened after you came back."

"What happened?"

"It was just a bit shocking to see you at the diner – I never expected you to go ahead and act on anything I'd said."

Dean kept babbling. Jess was lost for only moments before it clipped and flashes of the bloodied bathroom seemed to filled his mind like a red waterfall. "Stop. Wait. Why are you apologising?"

"You did it straight after -"

"Why does everyone think I put the value of my life on their hands?" He snapped, with an edge of a shake behind his words. "You did nothing Dean. Rory hasn't done anything. Luke hasn't done anything. None of you in the stupid town have any impact on whether I choose to live or die. That's my choice and my fucked up mind." He ranted, his breath ragged and completely oblivious to Andrew stepping out of the stock room and making his way closer to them with an urgency which was foreign to his muscles. "You have no significance on my disease." Jess said. Punctuating every word. "So please don't' apologize, and please don't harbour any unnecessary guilt to martyr yourself okay? You're not that important in my life, don't flatter yourself." Jess smacked the change into Dean's awaiting, frozen hand the same instance that Andrew placed his own on Jess' shoulder, squeezing down and squaring up behind him.

"I think you should leave now, Dean. Hm?" He said with a viciousness that Jess wasn't expecting.

Dean nodded and all but ran from the store.

"You alright, Jess?"

Jess nodded, his breath ragged.

"Well said." Andrew muttered, tapping Jess on the shoulder tightly, smiling at the boy and his eyes glassy with emotion. "You're going through hell right now Jess." He continued, looking at Jess so intensely that the boy seemed to snap back to the moment, to the reality. "Those who go through hell and make it out the other end – you know what we call them?"

Jess shook his head.

"Heroes." Andrew answered. "You may not think you are – but you're a strong young man. And when you make it out of this I expect great things from that mind of yours, okay?"

All Jess could do was nod – and that seemed all that Andrew needed. He nodded himself, tapped him one last time on the should and quickly made his way back to the stock room and out of sight.

Jess didn't think he could be blamed for camping out between the shelves of his favorite books for the rest of the day.

* * *

The chaos of the newsroom was a welcome rest from her preoccupation. Paris, desperate for some kind of attention, accused her of sabotage as soon as she walked into the room. The woman, resolute on her religion piece and sneering at anyone who so much as mentioned a prayer, paid no head to Rory's wants. It was only when they were all gathered around, listening for their name and assignment that Rory's mind finally zeroed in on the present.

She'd gotten Features. Finally.

And suddenly she was Rory Gilmore. Aspiring journalist who once brought men to tears with her words on sidewalk concrete. Writer and researcher ready to crack a story. With only a brief thanks to Doyle, she was able to sit at her desk, spread out her notes and begin thinking deeper into what she wanted to write. The world sunk into darkness behind her and she was free in her own mind.

* * *

It was dusk. Where the clouds folded in with pinks and oranges that made the colourful Stars Hollow pale in comparison. Jess had stumbled in from his shift at Andrew's quickly into late afternoon and waved off Luke's slight concern at his otherwise pale appearance. He threw himself at a table in the corner, accepted the free coffee, and fell into a world of his own quite quickly.

So Luke turned his attention elsewhere. With Lane helping at the diner, he kept a close eye on any scraps she was giving her starving band – and made sure to 'accidentally' put in a wrong order for one of the patrons so she could salvage it. In return, he was allowed to argue with her to no end about the importance of Steely Dan in modern music and infuriate her with his lack of musical prowess.

It was only later, when the diner darkened to a point where the electric lights had to be switched on, and the few stragglers were falling out that Luke finally noticed a spectacle he'd been avoiding.

Luke recognized a man on a mission when he saw one. Could see no one. Could hear nothing. Just purely engrossed on his point of focus. Coffee cups surrounding him, half finished and cold. It was the kind of image where Luke could picture an array of various kitchenware acting as ashtrays and still burning cigarettes in their contents.

He definitely didn't want to disturb him while he like this, but he did find himself just staring at the spectacle.

"Stop it." The man grumbled

"I wasn't doing anything."

"Stop looking at me, Luke – you're distracting me."

"I wasn't doing anything, Jess, just working."

He waved a hand, dismissing the older man. "Whatever."

It was, of course, his nephew. Jess, scribbling away on any scrap pieces of paper that had been lying around upstairs. All that Luke could see were quotation marks and angry scratches through Jess' otherwise neat handwriting. He looked desperate, ragged – like he had no other choice.

"Wha-"

"I'm writing Luke." Jess said simply.

"Well I can see that."

"No – I mean, I'm writing something. Like a book something. I just need some peace and quiet for a bit."

Luke held up his hands and backed away slowly. "Yep, go for it." He muttered, turning around to prepare to clean the diner after a day of work. "But you're cleaning up your creative mess," he looked around, noting the many coffee cups, "You might put a Gilmore up for her money there." Was his last comment before he left Jess alone to his work for the rest of the evening.

Jess paused, smiled into his work without looking up, and continued on his crazed journey. Even if Luke didn't understand what Jess was doing – he could understand it's significance.

* * *

It was an obsession. When she could decide on her breakthrough piece, the tabs of research so small that shed lost her initial topic. Going down one rabbit hole after another. Disheartened only briefly by Paris' exclamation of mind numbing conformity of the downloads piece. But she was determined to prove her wrong.

"Rory." Knocking on the window interrupted her – thrown from her concentration. The pencil in her hand clattered to the floor and her hair fell out of her hand from where she had been angrily holding it up. It took her a while to figure the source, and soon the looming figure of her supposed boyfriend was waving in the window.

"Oh." She jumped up and pointed to the front door where she quickly ran to let him in. "What are you doing here?" She asked quite frazzled, shutting the door behind him.

"Nice to see you too." He commented sarcastically, that smile of his reaching his eyes and warming his face.

"Of course," She said, shaking her head and reaching up to give him a quick peck on the lips. "But I'm going to be working on the paper all night – I thought I said-"

"You did! But I wanted to surprise you." He pulled a hand from behind his back and presented her with a neatly wrapped package.

"That's really sweet." She said breathlessly, accepting to gift and walking slowly to her room. "But I do need to do a lot of work. I've only just come back from Stars Hollow and I have so much to do that I really don't have time to-"

"Okay." Dean finally interrupted, obviously put out but still calm and gentle in his voice. "Fine, just open the gift and I can be on my way. I know you have work to do but it won't be some time before I get to see you next."

She felt guilty. And she hated that.

"Okay," she said quickly, carefully pulling at the paper.

It was immediately evident that it was a book. Rory was a little worried about what his choice would be. Small in it's size and a paperback – it didn't give her much of a clue as she was unwrapping it.

"I got help at the bookstore," Dean said as she slowly opened her gift. This immediately gave her more hope. If Andrew had helped Dean then maybe it wouldn't be such as bad choice after all.

It was only when she turned it around after finally peeling away the paper, feeling slightly confused at Andrew's choice for her that she had a slight jolt at the title.

 _Howl, Kaddish, and Other Poems – Allen Ginsberg._

Jess chose it.

"Thank you." She said earnestly, turning it around in her hands and opening up the pages.

"I was told your copy is a bit old, and you could use a blank, clean one." Dean continued to ramble in his pleasure of a good gift giving.

It was foreign to see Howl without any of Jess' writing in it.

"Blank." She repeated.

"Yeah," Dean replied, still obliviously happy.

She could feel herself over-analyzing the meaning of it already. "Is that what they said when they suggested it?" She tried to be subtle, "That I'd appreciate a blank version?"

It didn't work, she could see Dean's eyebrows slowly pull together. "Yeah, a blank, fresh copy."

She shook her head, plastered a smile on her face and kissed Dean's concern away. "Thank you, I love it."

Blank.

Fresh.

He was erasing himself from her life.


	18. Good Morning, Midnight

An unusually warm day found the residents of Stars Hollow gathered in the square, enjoying the rays. Some lay on blankets with a blanket protecting them from the dewy grass, some brought down their barbeques to supply food to their neighbours, others were chatting contently in the shade as they watched the interaction.

Jess was among them. He lay back on his elbows, his head tilted to the sky and his eyes closed as he listened to Lane rant about the most recent band fallout. Luke was close by with Lorelai, slipping in and out of the diner to keep everyone happy with snacks and coffee.

He still had the bitter taste of the anti-depressants in his mouth.

"He just refused to play the riff and we everyone agreed it was kickass but it was like he was jealous he hadn't come up with it himself, you know? So now no one in the house is talking – which makes the divvying up of stale crackers and cheese that much more awkward."

"Struggling with money then?" Jess asked, his eyes still closed, but still listening.

"Luke's helping where he can – I think he purposely messes up orders when we're all at the diner so that we're 'doing him a favour' by eating them."

Jess nodded solemnly, "I once had wiener water soup to get by." He admitted.

"What's that?"

"You save the water from boiling hot dogs and add some crackers. Not as disgusting as it sounds."

"Jesus, Jess." Lane's voice was suddenly low, and as Jess opened his eyes, he noted her head bent and her eyes wide. "I didn't realise how bad it must have been –"

"Nah," Jess said, "That was when I was with Liz."

He once again was struck by the heavy silence.

"I've not taken the easy route in life." He admitted.

Lane nodded, lifted her can of soda in a 'cheers' and gulped it down.

"Do you want me to change the subject?"

He took her cringe into the can as a 'yes'.

"What's going on with Rory and Dean?"

Lane choked on her soda and Jess couldn't help but laugh at her discomfort. He waited patiently for her to finish coughing.

"Are you serious?" She eventually asked, her voice strained.

Jess simply raised an eyebrow.

"You're serious."

He shrugged.

"Why are you asking?" She pressed.

He hesitated before answering, dropping his voice to a decibel that he knew would discourage any curious ears. "I didn't like how possessive he used to be – I just kind of want to make sure she's okay."

"You noticed that too?"

"It's kind of hard to miss."

Lane sighed.

"You don't have to tell me-" Jess reassured.

"-This stays between us?" She quickly interrupted.

"Do I look like a gossip?"

She rolled her eyes. "I honestly don't know. I think they're staying together because otherwise they did it for no reason, you know?"

"Not really."

"I think you're aware that they had an affair – Dean got married after you left."

"Yeah, I know that much. When did this all start?"

"I think things started becoming secretive after your mum's wedding."

Lane continued to explain without noticing Jess' expression drop. He replayed it all – seeing Dean at her dorm and storming straight past him. Begging Rory to run away with him. He suddenly felt incredibly stupid, and suddenly very nauseous.

"Well, Lindsay found a note from Rory which basically revealed everything and Lindsay kicked Dean out."

Jess swallowed back the bile and responded, "Jeez, that's heavy."

"I think they feel that have to stay together because a marriage was broken because of it."

"You don't think they want to be together?" He asked slowly and hesitantly.

"It's incredibly awkward." She admitted. "And it was almost like Rory justified it to herself because he was her boyfriend first. I didn't really like how she acted about the whole thing."

"She's…" Jess hesitated, shaking his head, "different? I'm not really sure how to describe it. It's like she's a bit lost."

Lane nodded. "I get that feeling too. We don't speak as much as I'd like too."

"Life gets busy sometimes."

It was a peaceful comradery between the two after that. Without a care in the world they lay back and ignored the town around them, so much so that they missed a familiar car going past the main square and straight to the comfortingly names crapshack.

It was much later that she showed herself. Jess had been called back to work at the diner and was busy fulfilling the orders that Luke wrote in his incomprehensible scrawl. He wasn't surprised by her appearance in the diner. Her reaction was predictable. What wasn't was her sitting patiently and quietly in the corner of the establishment, a laptop open and a notebook next to her. She'd catch his eye, hold contact, and then carry on with her work. He was fully expecting an explosive reaction – instead he got small smiles and muted glances.

"I thought she'd gone back to campus." Luke queried.

"It's not like it's far, Luke."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with you would it?"

"I don't know what you could mean," He continued to wipe down the tables and avoid Luke's eye.

"Be careful, Jess."

This wasn't a chastising warning away from Rory. Luke was no longer trying to protect her – he saw the fallout of the last time. He witnessed Jess' confusion, his change, his downright obsession with the girl. Luke knew more than most how that could affect someone's emotions – especially since she was back with the man that, from the sounds of it, made their relationship hell.

It was a word of caution.

"I know what I'm doing Luke." Jess attempted to reassure.

"I sure hope that's true."

It wasn't until the lunchtime rush was over that Jess got the opportunity to join her at the table. She didn't speak immediately, so he sat opposite her, his arms folded and his eyes closed as he enjoyed the ambient noise surrounding them, his mind racing with images and vivid colours of a possible – well, he didn't really know what to call it other than a possible fantasy.

"I never found out what you wanted to be." Rory said simply. Eventually. It wasn't one of their private moments – the ones where they could have been the only people in the world, looking up at the night, listening to the water run underneath their bridge. Yes. _Their_ bridge. No – it wasn't one of those moments, but it didn't stop it feeling any less personal.

For once it felt like the busybodies in the diner weren't listening to every word he said. It was almost like he'd gained their respect enough to warrant some form of privacy without the eavesdroppers listening in on _every_ word. Maybe just the odd few.

Their cups of coffee sat between them. Jess' notebook open on a page that Rory could just about read upside down to realise it was another fictional tale and it thrilled her to a shake in her voice.

"What I wanted to be?"

"Picture this –" Rory said, sitting back on her chair and waving her hands in front of her as she set the scene, "You're driving my car. I've just berated you about not going to college and you turn to me and say 'What about you?'" She grinned, lowering her voice in some comical impression of the boy opposite her.

"Crystianna Amanpour," Jess recalled.

Rory smile, dropping her hands and her impression. "What should have happened," Rory continued, "Is that I would then turn to you and ask – what did you want to be?"

"I've never really thought about it." He shrugged, pulling a sip from his lukewarm coffee and shielding himself from her gaze.

"Come on Jess. In your perfect world – what would you be doing every day?"

Jess could immediately picture his perfect world. It was on his mind a lot recently and it just flashed in front of his vision for a moment. He knew he couldn't tell her all of it – but he had sudden aspirations that he felt wouldn't reveal too much.

"Writing." He answered simply.

"Is that what you're doing now?" She nodded to the notebook.

He simply grinned, slowly closing the cover.

"What are you doing now?" He turned it back to her, as he often did.

She readjusted herself in her seat and spoke quietly in order to hide the giant smile that kept threatening to fall over her fact. "I got the Features."

She would have thought he wasn't interested if she wasn't already used to his miniscule reactions, his eyes widening by the slightest amount as he drank from his mug. "What's the topic?"

"I was thinking something about the ease of Piracy nowadays with music and movies and things –"

"Could be interesting…" Jess commented.

"Could?"

He shrugged and let her stew on it. "It's your story, Rory. Write about whatever you think the world needs to hear."

"Rory?"

The diner went silent and suddenly the peaceful moment between them was broken. The busybodies were looking from the door, to the table, and back again.

Jess knocked on the table, picked up his notebook, and muttered a "See you later, Rory." Before leaving the table. He gave a small salute to Dean standing at the entrance as the ring of the bell above the door echoed through the room.

"I thought you were too busy to see anyone?" His voice shook, with anger or emotion, no one was sure yet, but the townspeople were certainly interested.

"Uh," Rory stumbled, looking around at the gossips, "Shall we take this outside?"

He grumbled, but followed Rory close behind as she pushed herself out of the door. The door shut behind them and everyone followed their path around the diner.

"Free coffee to anyone who minds their own business." Luke announced to the room, and like that, the gossips' heads were turned.

"So you don't have time for me, but can somehow travel back here and have a cosy conversation with Jess?"

As soon as they were around the corner, Dean's anger emerged and Rory cringed away from his comments.

"It's not like that, Dean."

"It sure feels that way. I'm having de-ja-vu here." He waved his hand between Rory and the diner, leaning forward in his anger and becoming more and more intimidating.

"I was just trying to find a quiet place to write." She insisted. "Jess works here, there's nothing more than that."

He hesitated before coming to a different conclusion, "He recommended that I give you that book – was that like a secret code or something?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Then what Rory?"

She stopped and really took in his anger. His jealous, aggressive attitude. Controlling and untrustworthy. And like that –

"Why the hell do you care?"

He pulled back.

"Hm? Dean? Why do you care? I don't go around second guessing every time you and Lindsay need to meet up to 'chat'. I don't question any of your actions. You think I should be this perfect, rule abiding girl who follows you for the rest of my life. Well no. I am independent. I am ambitious. And, frankly, I don't need you watching my every mood."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"I guess I am."

With her arms crossed, she stared at his stuttering, gestating figure and with his words "Fine. I guess we are." The man stormed off back in the direction of his home.

And she felt like she could float.

There was a sudden weight off of her shoulders that she hadn't realised had been holding her down. She felt giddy.

She made her way back into the diner with a grin and a bounce in her step. Without saying a word to anyone, she grabbed her laptop and notes from the coffee table and stuffed them in her bag.

"Going so soon?" Jess asked as he slid towards her, swinging the tablecloth so it looked, at least, like he had a purpose for being there.

She grinned, nodded, and said "Thanks for everything, Jess," before skipping out of there.

"Er, no problem?" He said after her, watching as the girl got into her car and head off seemingly back in the direction of her campus.

"What did you do?" Luke asked mockingly as the patrons of the diner also followed her movements.

Jess didn't have an answer to that one.

Lorelai had invited Jess and Luke for dinner. What that translated as Luke was cooking in Lorelai's kitchen while she danced around him making jokes and sipping wine. It was entertaining for the first 10 minutes but Jess soon excused himself to the peace of the front porch.

He liked it there. Sat with a book, religiously filling it with notes, and feeling more and more comfortable in the place where he would have been chased away from not a year ago. The Gilmore Girls had made it comfortable. With their cushions and lights which made listening to the chirping of night-time birds, and rattling of crickets' sound ever more soothing.

The stars he looked to so often shone down in this place so clear that he felt he could reach out and touch each and every one of them. He enjoyed watching them flicker, comparing his meaningless little body to their gigantic essence. It was a weird sense of solitude and sadness that could humble a man.

The peace, however, could never last long in the Gilmore household. So when Lorelai danced out of the front door to join him, her hands behind her back and a grin on her face, he immediately knew she was up to something.

"What are you doing?" he said slowly, trying to lean forward to eye behind her.

"Do you not trust me?" She gasped, but the action was somewhat lacking with her hands still stuck behind her. She tried to stay quiet for longer, extending the tension, but soon broke and just threw her hands out in front of her.

"I seem to recall you searching for a red notebook?"

In her hands was the book he'd been searching for. The one with his original ideas and ramblings which he had desperately tried to emulate. He grabbed at it desperately and flicked through the paged to make sure it was real.

It was the one he had lost from all those weeks ago.

"Where did you find it?"

"You'll never believe it – but it was lodged between the couch cushions. I noticed it just before you both arrived."

He knew to be suspicious – he did. And maybe he was quite. But he made a decision to stick a pin in that feeling and relish in the fact he had his ideas and raw words back.

"Thank you, Lorelai." He said sincerely.

Grinning, she said "Anytime," and collapsed down next to him on the chair. "That's what mother's do –" She cut herself off quickly, realising her mistake.

"You're right." He agreed. "And what a damn good one you are."


End file.
